Ineluctability
by BeatDobby
Summary: As their connection strengthens, Potter falls into Riddle's possesion. However, the obvious isn't exactly truth in this case.
1. Antelogium

Prologue

It took Harry no large stretch of time to realize that though surrounded in blackness as he was, he was indeed dreaming. However it appeared as though he'd be repeating the same dream he'd had for over a week. He'd walk down an olive green hallway in some Victorian mansion to a lovely set of doors. His scar would tingle with an odd sensation, but no pain, and in his dream he'd know Lord Voldemort was behind that door. Then he'd open it, and the Dark Lord would be standing at a window, back to the door as if contemplating something. Voldemort would turn and fix Harry with a dangerous half smile that stirred something deep in Harry's loins. Then the boy would wake with disgust to find the hard-on of a lifetime bulging beneath the sheets.

Regardless of how well he knew the dream, Harry continued anyway just to see if anything would change. He got to the door, opened it, and stepped in as the Dark Lord turned from the window. He walked towards Harry with that half smile planted firmly on his face, wand in hand until they were inches apart. Harry froze. As opposed to the Voldemort he'd witnessed return to life, this dream interpretation looked healthier, younger, quite unlike the sixty-plus year-old he was. Full, black, wavy hair covered his head, and crimson eyes were lit behind dark lashes. His skin did not crack and wrinkle as he smirked down at Harry, appearing more like Tom Riddle, and not the power-ravaged menace to the wizarding world. He lifted his wand, but Harry did not flinch, just anticipated. He felt the cool wood slide softly down his cheek and he thought he might have trembled before Voldemort leaned closer as if to steal a kiss.

Harry didn't stay asleep long enough to find out.


	2. Unus

I

Voldemort turned from his view of the Irish landscape, small frown in place. He'd startled the boy, but that was to be expected. Young adult minds were fragile, and this one in particular, even more so. The boy did show some resilience even in the unconsciousness of his dream self, and that was precisely the sort of thing that drew him. It was a shame he hadn't stuck around in the dream. But over the weeks the Dark Lord grew stronger, and now Harry wouldn't have to be asleep to be contacted through their connection.

------------------------------------------------

Harry laid in bed until the sound of his uncle's alarm clock rang throughout the second floor of Four Privet Drive. He groaned remembering his relatives had gone on a vacation. Vernon had forgotten to shut it off which meant Harry would have to do it.

Downstairs in the kitchen he found a letter on the counter and large barn owl nipping at a bowl of waxed fruit. His aunt and uncle had locked up any foods they didn't want Harry to get a hold of...leaving namely dairy products, bread, and anything that could spoil before they returned. He pulled a roll from the pantry and fed the owl before investigating the letter. It was from the headmaster.

__

Harry,

I hope you are enjoying your summer, but it has come to my attention that your relatives have left for a vacation leaving you unattended. Of course I am aware that you are nearly seventeen years of age and your behavior does not warrant constant supervision. But Voldemort has been suspiciously scarce as of late and we worry that he would choose this period to make an advance. Therefore, I've convinced the Ministry of Magic to lift your restriction on under aged wizardry for defense purposes until you return to Hogwarts. I need not mention caution, as you've already experienced the danger we are dealing with. Do stay out of mischief, and we'll see you at the end of summer.

Professor Albus Dumbledore

Lifted the...restriction? And how did he know his relatives had gone away? Harry hadn't been able to send a letter, what with his aunt forbidding any magical behavior. Well, the details weren't important. What mattered was that Harry would be left alone possibly tile the end of summer, with permission to use magic....in self-defense, of course. But what qualified as self-defense?

The bird finished with the roll and waited for Harry to send a reply with him. After a moment of deliberation Harry snatched a sheet of note paper from Petunia's grocery list pad and wrote a short reply thanking the headmaster. Purposefully leaving out and mention of his dreams of the Dark Lord, which is what he was choosing to call it after all. He needed more time to consider what that could have meant, if anything. The owl eyed the too-white paper and fruit borders suspiciously as Harry secured it to its leg.

"Professor Dumbledore," he told it before sending it off. He was reminded of Hedwig locked up in his room and took a roll for her. She usually preferred to hunt, but that would have to wait until evening when neighbors had less chance of noticing a large snowy owl taking flight from his bedroom.

After feeding his familiar, Harry went to the shower, taking his time and reveling in the silence of a house without Dursleys. He examined this pale and too-thin reflection. Hogwarts' full menu had added some necessary weight but after spending so many of his developing years on Dudley's table scraps, he figured he'd always be small-framed. He was in need of a trim. The back ends covered the nape of his neck and the front kept flopping over his brows, even if the weight had tamed it to some degree. He frowned, wondering if Mrs. Weasely wouldn't mind taking care of it before they went to Diagon Alley for school supplies.

He quickly dressed in a sagging pair of Dudley's old jeans and a faded T-shirt before running outside to grab the paper. The front page held surprisingly little bad news, and therefore didn't spell any obvious threats from the wizarding world. He stood in the center of the living rooom trying to figure out what to do with himself. The TV was off-limits, for Uncle Vernon had disconnected the cord and hidden it somewhere...along with the stereo cord and any other aid to entertainment.

Well, his magic stuff was locked in the cupboard under the stairs. He supposed he could bust it open and pick through it for something to read. Not to mention just having his wand with him would be a good idea.

Harry knelt in front of the cupboard considering the padlock on the door.

__

A simple unlocking charm could have taken care of this, he thought wryly. There had to be a way to get it off the muggle way without destroying anything. He tried picking the darn thing with various tools - a narrow screwdriver, a fork, some pointed piece of metal he'd found in the bathroom. After having tried anything that would fit he returned to the cupboard angrily yanking at the lock.

"Merlin, just UNLOCK!"

The lock clattered to the floor with a dull thud.

Several seconds had passed before Harry realized what he'd just accomplished: wandless magic. And come to think of it, it hadn't been the first time if one counted the time he'd trapped his cousin in the python exhibit at the zoo. Silent with wonderment, he opened the door to reveal his school trunk. When Ministry officials failed to appear with a 'pop' right there in the hall Harry set out to open the trunk. With much more effort than it had taken him a moment ago, he was unable to unlock that as well.

Had he known he could still do that, and at will, he would have explored this side of magic more thoroughly. And come to think of it, why didn't more wizards use wandless magic? It wasn't exactly easy, but it _was_ possible.

Harry pulled out the polished wood that was his wand, closing his eyes at the subtle vibration it sent through him. Barely disguised was the pull towards a direction-less force that sent a shudder deeply through him. How far did this connection to Voldemort go, Harry wondered. There always was the possibility that the blood they now shared could have made the link stronger. But feeling strangely compelled to make contact with the murderer of his parents left a shifty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Feeling unsettled, and suddenly without appetite, Harry slipped his wand into the waist of his pants allowing it to rest against his thigh before leaving the house for the neighborhood park.


	3. Duo

II

After spending most of the day walking the park and some of the surrounding neighborhood, a large portion of Harry's hunger returned and he made a beeline for Number 4 Privet Drive. The shortcut down the little side street had him nearly there in under a half hour but a feeling stopped him. He felt the strange compulsion from that morning with surprising pungency. It was such that he didn't think he could take another step in the direction of home. His head throbbed painfully, originating at his scar. He sank to his knees in the middle of the alley.

"What do you want!?" he ground out, looking less than sane to anyone who might have happened by.

__

"The world, of course. But for now, you'll do nicely," a thin voice floated across his mind.

__

"You can't have me."

"Come to me, Harry, and we shall see."

Harry couldn't believe the Dark Lord was in his head baiting him once again. Where did this capability come from? Harry struggled to ignore the pain in his head.

__

"You think I'm foolish enough to be fooled into a trap? Don't insult my intelligence. I'll never go to you, unless it's to kill you."

There was a tense pause before Voldemort answered softly.

__

"You seem to think you have some sort of control over the matter..."

There was another pause during which Harry had tried to formulate some response, or get off his knees, whichever he was capable of first.

__

"Imperio..."

Now, Harry had experienced the force of Imperius, and with some effort, had been quite capable of fighting it. Against the intensified version Voldemort had sent at him through his mind, he was defenseless. His body seized up of its own accord with an audible 'pop' and awaited a command. It was like the normal force of Imperius had been magnified tremendously. Was this really the power of Lord Voldemort?

__

"Come to me," he commanded once more.

It suddenly felt as if every cell in Harry's body was making an attempt to be anywhere but there, and he found darkness closing in his vision. He lost consciousness, his body automatically apparating seconds later.

Harry came to on a slightly dusty grey carpet in a small sitting room. He assumed it was a sitting room, but some of the furniture had been draped in dust cloth. He had awaken sprawled on the floor, left cheek pressed into the carpet. The throb in his head had dulled considerably, but he could sense Voldemort was nearby, maybe even rooms away.

Taking it slow, Harry was able to stand and walk to a set of double doors a few feet away. He felt the wards before even touching the painted wood. They were oppressive and ominous all around him. The room was so heavily guarded, he'd have to be Dumbledore to break free on his own. It seemed they weren't taking any chances with The-Boy-Who-Lived. He could even feel similarly strong wards on the building in general.

Harry vaguely wondered since when he'd been able to do things like sense wards and the Dark Lord's presence. The whole situation was spiraling out of control without him even knowing how it began. He hadn't even the time to send for help. He shook his head lightly, trying to clear away any negative thoughts. He could handle this; he was meant to face Voldemort. He wouldn't allow himself to be harmed by him. He felt for his wand, suddenly startled by its absence.

__

Well, of course they wouldn't let you remain armed. You're a hostage now.

Harry cautiously wracked his mind for Voldemort's presence, finding the familiar red pulse lurking distantly. The pulse intensified as it became aware of Harry's consciousness but there was no attempt to communicate.

Why this nonsense, Harry wondered. If Voldemort could cast Imperius on him from Merlin knew how far away, why not just kill him? There was something drastically amiss, and Harry didn't think he was ready for whatever Voldemort had concocted this time.

The doors swung open and two black-clad Death Eaters came in, their masked gazes falling on the boy immediately. "You're to come with us, Potter," one of them declared.

__

Like hell...

When the boy hadn't made any move to follow the wizard chuckled. "Going to be stubborn about it, then? I hoped you be defiant. _Crucio._"

Harry sucked in a huge breath at the impact of the spell, and screamed.

"Imbecile! He said not to hurt him."

"I won't do any permanent damage. I think he just needs motivation."

The spell ended and Harry lay gasping on the carpet once more. Large hands circled his forearms and hefted him to his feet. He was half dragged, half led down the hall to a familiar pair of doors.

__

Oh no.....

The doors opened as they approached and the scene opened like another dream. Voldemort, now even more physically restored than the dream, turned from the window.

"Leave him, gentlemen."

Harry's escorts bowed before leaving him alone with Voldemort, or Riddle as Harry was now beginning to see him. It must have been some extraordinary charms that got the Dark Lord to this state. The older wizard approached calmly, hands clasped behind his back. Harry took a small step back towards the door.

"Come now, Harry. If I wanted to kill you right now, do you really think there would be much you could do to stop me? I don't think I need to mention that you are unarmed."

Harry regarded him cautiously. "You sent the dreams, then?"

"A minor experiment. I trust you've noticed the change in our little...connection?"

Harry raised a brow but refused to comment.

"Funny what comes in handy." Riddle rounded an arm chair, expensive dark robes skirting the carpet gracefully. "I'll going to be frank with you, boy. I've found a better use for you in this war, and so long as you leave me other options, I won't kill you."

Harry didn't like where this was going.

"You've defied me on more than one occasion, and in most circumstances, that would have earned you your death without question. However, I think it more fitting a punishment to mould that foolish mind to my liking. The wizarding world _will_ see their precious beacon of hope grow dimmer in my possession."

"You're going to keep me here?" Harry sounded skeptical. Riddle held his wand delicately in his right hand as he neared Harry.

The Dark Lord smiled thinly. "Not only will you be kept here, boy, you'll be made to serve me. And I think you'll even find there's some pleasure to had in your predicament."

"You've got to be joking."

Riddle raised a smooth brown. "Am I? Tell me, Harry, what exactly did you feel in your dreams this morning?" The cool tip of the wand suddenly glided down Harry's cheek. The boy started at the sensation.

Riddle was so close his scent filled Harry's nostrils. Soft breath wafted over Harry's skin scattering a bit of his perception to the wind. Crimson irises brought it back.

"Revulsion."

Riddle pulled back with a short laugh. "Was that before or after you became aroused?"

Again, Harry chose not to comment.

"You'll find there is little you can hide from me Harry." His tone became firm. "Starting now, you'll not eat, bathe, or sleep unless I've allowed it. You won't even see the light of day unless I feel you've deserved it. You will be spending a lot of time with me boy, it's best you learn the rules now if you wish to stay in tact. Is that clear?"

Harry was speechless, brows furrowed in disbelief.

Suddenly it felt as if his skin was on fire. Not just pain...burning. Harry gasped.

"Answer me."

After taking a second to realize what was happening he nodded quickly, trying not to scream as the heat became excruciating. Riddle tilted his head, eyeing Harry under his brows. "What's that?"

"Yes.....I understand." It had started to feel as if his blood was boiling, but there was no fire or smoke - just heat. Harry was frantic.

"And I thought you'd last a bit longer than that..."

After a second it ebbed away, leaving the boy sweating and choking. Riddle smiled. Oh, this boy would bring him so much pleasure.

The door opened, and a Death Eater - Pettigrew - entered promptly. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Take him. I'm finished for now."

The shuddering boy was led away on weak knees.


	4. Tres

III

Harry was lead to a room with no furnishings other than a bed covered only in a fitted sheet. There was one large window but the drapes were drawn, swamping the room in partial darkness. There was a bathroom in the back corner, and nothing else.

"Strip."

He turned around and regarded the wizard with narrowed eyes.

"Go on, be quick about it."

"I'd much rather not," he answered defiantly.

The Death Eater aimed his wand at Harry's chest. "You don't have a choice! You're to have _nothing_ unless the Dark Lord says so. Now take everything off."

Hesitantly, he complied, hoping he wouldn't have to endure this treatment for long before Dumbledore came for him. That is, if anyone knew he was gone.

As his escort left with the garments, Harry couldn't help feeling relieved he didn't want anything else. As the door closed loudly, the room became nearly pitch black. Harry stumbled over to the window and tugged on the drapes. They wouldn't budge. He could feel the charge of some sort of charm and he tried again to no avail.

Harry backed away with a feeling of foreboding. _Not even the light of day._ How long did Riddle plan on keeping him locked in a dark room? Potter sat on the bed slowly, using one of the posts to guide him. The cotton sheet felt slightly rough against his bare skin. He kept telling himself it would be over soon. The headmaster would figure something out. Harry needed only to give him time.

2 days later......

Harry was beginning to have trouble ignoring his hunger. He hadn't eaten since the evening before his abduction and it was affecting his ability to stay awake. He lay on the bed, his eyes long since grown accustomed to the darkness. The first day he stayed awake the entire night. Between his stomach growling and the uneasiness caused by his surroundings, sleep was a bit much to hope for.

He could feel Riddle on the edge of his mind, but he all he could sense was the barrier blocking him. His body ached with hunger, though he'd drank from the tap a few times. By the time the door opened again he was barely even able to register the hand shaking his shoulder.

"Boy, wake up! You need to bathe before the Dark Lord will see you."

That voice....

"Professor....?"

"Up, Potter."

It was soon discovered that 'up' was no longer a capability and Harry was carried into the bathroom and lowered into the tub. Soon the shower was pelting his naked body with icy droplets. He managed to sit up. A wash rag fell into his lap, followed by a cake of soap, and he grabbed them, slowly recalling what he was supposed to do with them.

"Hurry up."

"Professor Snape?" He tried to peer into the taller man's face but the infamous mask was in place.

"Who else, potter," he remarked dryly.

"You have to get me out of here. Does Dumbled--"

"--Yes, and you aren't to go anywhere."

The rag and soap were momentarily forgotten.

"What? Why?

"The headmaster knows Riddle isn't planning to kill you.........and he'd doesn't want to risk the Order at such a fragile state." His voice dropped at the last part.

"_Risk the Order?_ Has he gone insane!?"

"Dammit, keep your voice down! And keep washing, you don't have all day."

Snape looked around quickly as if expecting to be caught consorting. Harry slowly soaped the cloth and started to scrub himself weakly.

"Whose side are you on anyway?" the boy asked darkly after a few moments of quiet.

"That's none of your concern. You just worry about yourself, and we'll see how long you last. I always thought Albus was too easy on you," he began, pulling Harry out of the bath. "I warned him about what could happen. Now lets hope you aren't as thick as I've always assumed."

Harry thought to mumble something but kept it to himself as he concentrated on not collapsing on the way out. A bundle of clothing hit him in the face as he stood there in the aftermath of a drying charm that left his hair extra unruly and his skin tingling. He sluggishly pulled up the trousers and got the shirt over his head before trailing after the Professor.

"He's expecting you. You are to kneel and kiss the hem of his robes if he asks you to approach. Do something stupid, and no one will be able to save you."

Harry didn't catch every word but he got the gist. Did they really expect him to just give in to the murderer of his parents?

They arrived at the same pair of doors from his first day there and they opened by themselves. Harry braced himself for the worst.

Riddle was reading calmly in an armchair, picking from a bowl of fruit. He set it aside when they entered.

"Leave him, Severus."

Snape bowed and backed out of the room silently, leaving the two to their tense silence. Harry stood as stiffly as he could, but he refused to cower like a weakling, even if he _was _feeling every _bit _the weakling. Riddle turned a page of his book and pushed a shiny, red grape into his mouth. Harry's stomach lurched audibly.

A minute or so had gone by, and Harry couldn't keep his gaze from drifting back to the dish of fruit. _Don't think about it. He's just trying to tempt you._ Instead, he tried to read the title of the book Riddle was so absorbed in.

JU...JILL...no....JULIUS. JULIUS CAESAR.

Well, that had taken all of six or seven seconds and Riddle still wasn't paying him much attention.

"Is there something you wanted?" he asked with more gusto than he felt.

Finally Riddle put down the book. His eyes were cold.

"_Crucio_."

The instant pain wracked his body, Harry fell to his knees. His screams could have been someone else's for all he was aware. When it ended, the boy was gasping for breath and shaking badly.

"Now, come to me."

Taking a few more seconds to catch his breath, he crawled, not that he was capable of walking at the moment. The floor tilted back and forth like a rocking sail boat, and he had to take little pauses before getting there. When he reached the chair Riddle was occupying he waited for his vision to stop spinning before bringing the dark fabric ends to his lips...

...and vomiting on them.

The next thing he knew a boot had made contact with his ribcage, landing him sprawled backwards on the rug.

"...Filthy little--"

He was blasted with curse after curse before losing consciousness completely.

When Potter came to again he was back in his room on the bed. This time, however, his body ached for a reason other than hunger. Just how many spells had been endured Harry hadn't the slightest idea. But he did realize that if he didn't get food soon he wouldn't be able to stay awake on his on. Food had been withheld from him at the Dursleys' on occasion, but only for a day or so, and they'd never completely hexed him before doing so.

__

The one time I get a chance to spit at Voldemort's shoes, it wasn't on purpose...

Somehow Harry doubted just telling him that would be enough. But if he did something...some gesture of apology...that might surprise the Dark Lord into believing him. Harry was willing to try anything to get some sustenance into his body.

He reached out to the gentle red pulse of light. The barrier was still there but with soft pushes he felt something akin to acknowledgement meet his urges.

__

"..........Sir?" he tried, hating how weak he sounded to himself.

There was a dreadfully long pause.

__

"What is it, boy?"

"I.......didn't mean it...you know, with the robes. It wasn't on purpose." It came out sort of in a rush and Harry had to tell himself to relax.

__

"...And you're expecting something for this little......apology."

It wasn't a question, and Harry wasn't sure how to respond.

__

"Tell me, Potter, are you willing to do anything to sustain yourself?"

The connection wavered as Harry struggled to focus.

__

"...I.........yes..."

"Then come to me. You know the way." Harry barely noticed the last bit wasn't in English.

Riddle's presence receded, leaving Harry to follow the order. He pulled himself to his feet using the bed and stumbled in the general direction of the door. It opened of its own accord and Harry wondered how the man was casting and deactivating spells from rooms away. He glanced both ways down the hall surprised by the absence of guards. He could just run in the opposite direction, but he doubted he'd get very far.

Using the wall for support, Harry headed to the same room he'd last seen the Dark Lord in and waited for the door to open. This time, Riddle was waiting in the chair again, sans book. Another plate of edibles was beside him, including more grapes. He decided that if he was going to go through with this, he might as well do it correctly. Harry swallowed his pride - easy to do when he couldn't think straight. He knelt. Riddle beckoned. He crawled. When he got to the older wizard he raised the black hem to his lips and kissed it, letting it fall gently.

He waited.

"Yond, Harry, has a lean and hungry look....." Voldemort whispered in amusement. Harry kept his eyes on the floor.

Suddenly there were long, thin fingers tracing his jaw. He might have flinched had he the strength. But he knelt there allowing the bane of his existence to caress his face, his hair, his neck.... He hadn't realized he was leaning into it until Riddle pulled away. He plucked a grape from its bunch and pushed it against Harry's lips. There was a full second of stillness before Harry drew the little globe into his mouth.

Chewing was bliss.

When another was pressed to his lips he didn't even hesitate before consuming it. The third time he'd drawn a finger in briefly, but he didn't care. He was _eating_. Soon, a new fruit had been introduced (not that Harry completely noticed the change). It was some sort of melon, sliced long like a flat banana, that Harry attacked with his teeth. When it wasn't making it into his mouth fast enough, he leaned forward, trying to get all of it. Riddle pulled it away, and Harry must have made some noise of exasperation because the Dark Lord began to laugh.

"I'm not going to allow you to soil my robes again. Slow _down_," he instructed firmly.

He fed Harry the rest of it before handing the boy a handkerchief. The boy blushed realizing how sloppy he'd been. And a picture he must make - kneeling on the floor, breathless, with fruit bits dribbling down his chin.

He winced at the thought.

When he finished wiping his face he realized the Dark Lord was watching rather intently, as if evaluating him. Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the idea. Riddle didn't see Harry so much as a young adult as he did a magical being. Harry was flowing with power, a great bit of it unharnessed, and to a trained wizard Harry nearly glowed with it. Seeing him at his feet, cheeks flushed and breath quickened with the anticipation of getting food into his body, Riddle began to grow hard rather quickly.

"Look at me," he commanded, the words a series of short hisses to one who couldn't understand them.

Harry understood them, and he looked, wishing he hadn't. The lust he was interpreting made him shudder. What the hell had he done to be given such a look? It certainly wasn't to be expected from a wizard that had tried multiple times to take his life. His heart thudded in his chest at the possibility that Riddle may intend to act on that lust, and he'd be in no position to do anything about it. What was more, was that the older wizard's silence was easily a reason to worry. After all, if Harry learned nothing else about the Dark Lord in seventeen years, it was that he was nothing if not unpredictable.

Riddle sat back in his chair, snorting irreverently. "It's a wonder you accomplish any productive thinking with all of those stray thoughts swimming around."

It took Harry a moment to realize he was referring to whatever thoughts had _just_ passed through his mind. Was Riddle planning to make a habit of frequenting his private thoughts?

"Now, tell me. What were you _really_ thinking?"

Harry wasn't so sure what Riddle was talking about. There were no hidden thoughts, if that was what he'd meant.

"You're nervous. I can feel it from here, boy." He reached up to touch the side of the boy's face. Harry flinched as if to prove him right and hated himself for it. All of his talk of finally finishing Lord Voldemort off and here he was, scared as a rabbit.

Well, perhaps 'wary' was a better description. But he was powerless, nonetheless.

Those thin, carefully crafted fingers traced the outline of his earlobe only touching the tiny pale hairs that covered it. "But...why? This is your moment to pull off some daring trick and finish me off in some typically Griffyndor fashion. Why exactly is it that aren't you living up to your name, boy? Here I am." Fingers journeyed to the hair at the base of his skull, twirling lightly. While it seemed he was attempting to provoke Harry into some sort of action, his tone indicated that he expected no such thing,

And Harry did just that. Nothing, Nothing except realize Riddle was right and that he was obligated to _do_ something. He was a Griffyndor, a direct descendent of Godric Griffyndor - his blood heir for goodness sake! He had every reason and justification to try something cunning and noble and daring...

...and absolutely foolish.

There was no way he'd be successful. He'd known the moment Riddle executed the Imperious curse that there was no way.

"I'll tell you, why." He tilted Harry's chin with one of those decidedly beautiful fingers and forced him to look up.

"I've won. It'd be completely fruitless to try anything at this point, and you know it."

"You haven't," he claimed defiantly.

"Oh? Tell me then, Potter. Where is Dumbledore? Or your precious Order, for that matter. Have they lifted a finger to save you, or are they off trying to preserve what remains of their so-called 'secret organization'?"

Harry was very poor at hiding his shock. Riddle took notice and allowed him to stew in the revelation that he knew of one of Dumbledore's best kept secrets.

"I'm sure this is all very disturbing for you, so I'm going to step out of character and be lenient. You'll have the night to think things over. In the morning, you be ready to serve in anyway I see fit. Do you understand?"

"---"

Riddle glared him down.

"...Yes."

"Good. Now go back. I trust you know the way."

Riddle gazed after Potter long after he'd closed the door. He'd surprised the boy with his little revelation, but then that had been his intention. Those foolish hopes had to be crushed or he'd never get through to the boy. Potter may have been young, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He'd never fully pledge himself to Riddle's keeping if there was still reason to believe help was coming. If the older wizard played his cards correctly, when help came, the boy would be more than willing to refuse it. Only after this first task would the boy _truly_ be his.

The Dark Lord sensed the boy had a tremendous capacity for obedience given the proper motivation. The immediate problem was that the boy was too used to fighting for his right in the world. Riddle admitted he'd been largely responsible for the boy's defensive tendencies, considering he'd attempted to take the boy's life on numerous occasions. But as time passed, objectives changed, as did the viewpoints that spawned them. And suddenly, the idea of destroying this young well of power seemed nothing short of a waste.

Voldemort would be damned is he wasn't resourceful.

Besides, he knew what they were planning. He also knew that none of his men could be trusted. That was why he had no intention of letting any of them in on his intentions for the boy. He'd let them make their own assumptions. - plaything, sex slave...he'd leave them to it. But the boy was his....for other reasons.

That night Harry slept very little, so plagued were his thoughts by images of betrayal. Between the headmaster's refusal to help and Harry's mere consideration of the Dark Lord's words, he couldn't decide if he was the betrayed or the betrayer.

As far as Harry had seen, Riddle was currently the strongest he'd ever been...perhaps even stronger than he was during his last rein of terror. Was it truly worth going against such an unevenly matched opponent out of some decadent sense of duty as the heir of Griffyndor?

Harry turned onto his side, restlessly yearning for the ability to roam the deserted halls of Hogwarts under the concealing capabilities of his Invisibility cloak.

No, he decided. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth if there was any truth to what Snape had told him. It wasn't worth it if those who expected him to act in a way befitting his heritage were no where to be found. He'd do what _he_ could to get through this. If the entire wizarding world disagreed with this decision, he didn't care. This was between himself and Riddle.


	5. Quattuor

IV

Harry steeled himself for what the morning would bring. He lay in bed wide awake until his door creaked open. He waited for someone to enter and lead him to his fate, but apparently there was no one.

__

"Come to the drawing room."

The connection was gone just as quickly as it had come leaving Harry with nothing to do but get up and comply. His body ached in a doze or so little places from his edgy slumber. He badly needed to crack his neck and stretch but Riddle wasn't likely to take well to dawdling.

Once at the same pair of double doors he froze. They swung open gently. Riddle was waiting in front of a large bay window overlooking his favorite view of a set of rolling Irish hills. He didn't need to turn to be certain Potter hadn't come in yet.

__

The dramatics of adolescents...

"Come in, Potter."

The words were simple, but still so strange in their casualness. His voice was calm and quiet, which really told Harry nothing of the Dark Lord's mood. He came in, acknowledging the click of the doors behind him as if they indicated some monumental loss of freedom. He supposed they did in this particular situation.

Riddle finally moved to close the rather large gap between them. Dark flowing robes swished against his boots as he approached. Harry was certain that being able to sense the Dark Lord had its advantages, but at the moment all it did was make his stomach flop and his adrenaline surge. Being approached by power of that magnitude just took getting used too.

Belatedly, Harry thought that he should probably be kneeling at the moment, and as his muscles bunched in preparation Riddle's hand was on his cheek. He stilled, trying to be ready for whatever Riddle might do. But there was no preparation for being caressed by those hands.

"I take it that we understand each other, then?"

Harry nearly nodded but didn't want to upset the hand smoothing his jaw.

"Yes..." There had been something he wanted to say, but it was getting difficult to truly focus on anything other than Riddle's incredible closeness to him.

The older wizard made a noise of confirmation somewhere in his throat before his hand drifted to the boy's earlobe. Suddenly there was the brief buzz of magic and a stinging pain where Riddle held his ear. He gasped, reaching instinctively for the source. Riddle's hand had dropped to the shoulder and Harry was able to grab the newly installed stud in his left earlobe.

"What is this?"

"A precaution, if you will. Just something to ensure your cooperation. Try nothing suspicious and you needn't give it another thought."

Harry didn't consider this explanation particularly reassuring in the least. But so far it didn't seem like anything more than a magical leash, and he'd expected something of this nature sooner or later.

Riddle observed his handiwork fondly and Harry wished he could see it. It certainly must have had an interesting affect, not that it would have been his personal choice.

"I suppose you'd prefer something hackneyed like a collar?"

When _was_ he going to tire of doing that....

"No. I just never pictured myself getting piercings and all of that sort of thing."

"Things never happen exactly the way we predict. Who'd have guessed you'd be spending your seventeenth birthday in my company? Certainly not you."

"I suppose not."

Somehow the thought was darkly humorous, though he didn't laugh. He hadn't imagined his seventeenth birthday in any great detail, but he assumed Ron, Hermione, and the Burrow would be involved somehow. With the glorious day no more than a day or two away, it was now safe to say that those ideas could be forgotten.

__

Now what, Harry thought to himself. Riddle still hadn't lifted his hand, and while it wasn't doing any immediate harm, it certainly couldn't be a good thing, could it?

__

Of course not! This is Voldemort, as in The Dark Lord. His interest could never be 'a good thing'.

But then why was the touch not making him as afraid as it should? By all accounts, he should be fearing Riddle's touch like the plague. Instead, he was curious to know what thoughts were running through that complicated mind. Harry hesitated in trying connecting to it, though the older wizard did it constantly with absolutely no reserve. Harry could actually feel the stirrings of the connection livening that very second.

__

"What is it you want to know, Harry?"

It was the old snake language. Without a thought the boy answered in kind.

__

"No, I just....I..."

The thought trailed off as the hand, causing so much mischief by simply being on his shoulder, migrated back up to the nape of his neck where it proceeded to unsettled him further.

__

"Yes...?"

Despite the situation, Riddle's tone seemed to indicate that he truly wanted to know. But for the life of him, Harry couldn't seem to remember a thing worth saying.

__

"I...don't understand you." There. That seemed to help him focus on the problem. _"What do really expect from me?"_

Harry awarded himself for a well-thought, however blunt, complete sentence.

__

"Remember the dream, Harry?"

"Dream? Oh. What about it?

There was a lengthy pause, and Harry feared he might not get an answer at all, but them Riddle spoke. Back to English, and back to oral speech.

"So much energy....."

The apparent randomness drew Harry back to his senses, "Energy?"

Riddle abruptly pulled away, and indiscernible look in his eyes. He headed for the door.

"You're free to look around. There will of course be some places you aren't allowed to explore..."

It dawned on Harry that Riddle had, for some omitted reason, changed the subject. He reluctantly acquiesced.

"And where might those 'places' be?"

"You'll know when you run into them." He opened the doors - actually _opened_ them this time.

Though it thoroughly rankled, Harry took the hint that their little conversation was over. The loss of contact had a minute chilling effect that clashed uncomfortably with his unease. He should have been glad for the absence, but instead, some part of himself was anxious for the next caress.

Better to keep that thought tucked firmly away, he thought, hoping Riddle hadn't been spying this time.

There was the wordless 'pop' of an apparition behind him as he left the room.

The boy saw naught of the Dark Lord for the rest of the day. He wandered the floors of the mansion, running into no one but house elves for hours. There were many stairways, and at least three floors that he was certain of without being able to look at the place from the outside.

__

I could get lost in this place for days...

As soon as the thought struck him , a wave of fatigue washed over him. He paused on the stairway he was descending and waited for his vision to clear. He was light-headed, tired, and desperately in need of an actual meal. The whole fruit fiasco had been a full day ago and the last house elf he encountered hadn't been very helpful about food.

"Not your time for eating."

"No, you don't understand, its been hours. I just want something small," he lied in vain hopes of persuading the little guy to get him something.

But he, like most house elves, was very adamant about orders and allowed no exceptions, not even for The-Boy-Who-Lived.

It shook it's head, large ears flapping with the force of the action. "No food! Mr. Potter will eat when Master comes back."

Fully expecting that the elf wouldn't change its mind even if he dropped dead of starvation, he left it to its cleaning. It really was useless to get angry. But that didn't change the fact that he still needed to eat something.

__

Let's hope 'Master' comes back before I starve to death...

He set off to find his room, which he now knew was somewhere on the second floor. He knew it was somewhere in the left wing of the house, but the way was more complicated than that. He tried a few random hallways before finally admitting he was lost.

It would have been easier to find his way if he didn't have to fight off swoon attacks every few minutes. And it was quite possible that he'd wandered into the other wing through some circuitous back route. He stopped at a particularly long hallway and went to the large window at the end of it. The sun was on its way down, which probably meant Riddle would be back soon. He hoped he wouldn't be in any sort of trouble for having a look, but he had no other way of knowing what time it was.

And he was _so _tired. He slid down to the floor resting his head on the cool glass. Perhaps he could just stay here for a little while and sleep. When he felt a little less fatigued, he could try to find his room again. Maybe he'd even have a better shot at success with a clear--

Before the thought was complete, Harry was asleep. His slow breaths formed small puffs of vapor on the cool pane as his breathing evened out. The sun set completely over the hills, and before long the hallway as well as the countryside was lit gently by the waning moon. His body jerked now and then in his fragmented dreams, but what finally woke him was the presence at the mouth of the hallway.

He was surprised how much time had passed since he shut his eyes. He stood up sluggishly, his eyes falling on a pair of glittering red eyes in the shadows. Potter froze, not knowing what to expect. Had Riddle been summoning him but he'd been too deeply into sleep to hear?...For he was certain that that was Riddle silently watching him.

"I...sort of fell asleep. I just...I can't find my room," he managed, wishing he'd chosen to fully awake before trying to speak.

__

Probably didn't even catch a word of that nonsense...

Harry fell to his knees in front of him, taking his silence as a bad sign.

__

I'll just shut up and maybe he'll forget that I'm down here...

"Come," was all he said, turning and heading back down the hall. Harry scrambled after him for a second to catch up, then they continued on for a moment in silence.

"Honestly, you might have asked one of the house elves, Potter..."

Was that..._amusement?_

Sheepishly, Harry supposed this was true. But the house elves hadn't been very helpful thus far.

"No, but Wodie wasn't ordered to leave you stranded. He would have shown you to your room."

"I......didn't think of it, sir."

Harry received a grunt in reply, too woozy to be surprised by invasions of his thoughts. He followed Riddle's form through several dimly lit halls to the doors of his room.

"If you aren't _too_ tired, you'll be required to wash and change before our evening meal."

"No. I mean, I'm not too tired."

Riddle raised a brow and continued. "Appropriate attire has been provided. I trust you can find your way to the drawing room in _thirty_ minutes."

"Yes, sir," he replied as his cheeks colored.

Riddle waited for the boy in his favorite armchair. He held _Julius Caesar_ open on his lap but he couldn't concentrate enough to actually read any. Potter truly was a beautiful magical being, even more so in his sleep. He anticipated the evenings in which Potter would have no reservations in his presence. Potter was still afraid, simply because he didn't know what to expect. In time they'd be able to read each other well enough for trust to come easily. But Riddle was no longer certain how much time there was.

Which brought up another matter - Lucius. He'd known Lucius since he was in his late teens and eager to be part of something powerful. The blonde was ambitious then, and he was still ambitious, just more refined about it. He'd just paid a surprise visit to the Malfoy estate, and while there was nothing obviously wrong, he knew Lucius well enough to know when the man was nervous - or more importantly, hiding something.

Narcissa had been as placid as usual, and Draco...well, it was difficult to decided whether the boy wanted more to please the Dark Lord or his father. But Lucius...he had the look of a man who held the biggest secret in the world and didn't want anyone to know. And that warranted looking in to.

For now, it was time for the boy to make an appearance - not a public one, but at least in front of the others. A gathering, perhaps., to get his feet wet and to see his reaction.

It was peculiar the way Potter reacted to their personal contact thus far. He seemed to enjoy it, even seek it out, but he questioned its source. He hadn't tried to escape or openly defy orders thus far. As he suspected, obedience wasn't really an issue. Perhaps it was time to ease up a bit...move on to the issue of trust. He supposed this evening was the perfect time for a chat of sorts.

A few moments more and the boy arrived looking superb in deep green robes with black velvet trim. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, but all in all, he was well put together. Something of his thoughts must have found a way onto his face for the boy began to chew his bottom lip.

__

"Don't ruin it by acting like a nervous school boy," he admonished.__

Harry halted the fidgety behavior but he still wasn't at all comfortable. Riddle considered him silently for a long moment before walking up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"You clean up well Potter outside of those ruddy school uniforms. Now come, you must be famished."

And Riddle led them through a door at the far end of the room Harry hadn't noticed before.

The dining room.

There was a house elf waiting inside who pulled out Harry's chair so that he could sit and did the dame for Riddle at the opposite end of the table. Then it vanished in a small puff of smoke. Seconds later the table was laden with food and drink.

__

Just like at Hogwarts... The thought caused in indecipherable pang.

At first the boy was too hungry to be self conscious - he piled food on his plate and wolfed it down. He neither noticed, nor cared what it was that he ate so long as he could get it in his body fast enough.

Food!

For long moments Riddle merely chewed thoughtfully and sipped his wine. The boy was simply ravenous, tearing through his food.

"If you choke to death, Potter, it would make for a very pathetic end to our little epic battle."

The fork clanged against the plate.

"By all means, don't let me stop you."

The fork stayed. Harry instead drank from his glass of water, praying the Dark Lord wouldn't dwell on his pathetic display of table manners.

The boy swallowed audibly. Riddle grinned in amusement.

"Tell me, Harry, why is it that men fear me?"

The younger wizard looked up suddenly, taken aback by the question. There was a span of silence during which he hoped the question was a rhetorical one.

Riddle waited for an answer.

"Because...you're evil."

The Dark Lord guffawed in response. "Have I given you far more credit than you deserve? Surely your ability of perception transcends the simple concept of 'good and evil', Potter."

Harry wasn't so sure he was prepared for a philosophical discussion with Riddle, but the conversation was surely headed that way.

"Perhaps this will make it simpler. Why do _you_ fear me?"

"What makes you think that I do?"

"It literally rolls off of you Harry. You Griffyndors wear your emotions like a badge. But you aren't alone Harry - my own Death Eaters fear me and they've willingly joined my side."

The conversation was hardly of an appropriate topic for dinnertime discussion. Why couldn't they just eat in silence?

"Upon each initiation I explain to them that they have nothing to fear so long as they remain trustworthy and never defy me." He took another sip of wine and swirled it around in his glass. "Why, then, do you suppose each of them fears the possibility of death every time I summon them?"

"Perhaps they haven't heeded your advice, sir." He hadn't intended on contributing to the conversation, but now that he had, Riddle seemed even more fixed on him.

"I'm fairly certain _many _of them haven't heeded my advice. When the time is appropriate, they'll

receive their reward." The older wizard leaned back in his chair and fixed Harry with a look that went hand-in-hand with the look he'd given the boy after feeding him the fruit a day ago.

"But what will you do, Harry?" Riddle's voice had gone soft and the sound of it caused something in his stomach to swirl. Harry peered into his glass and tried forcing himself not to blush.

"I don't understand what you're talking about, sir," he muttered.

"Oh, I'm certain that you do. I do believe I'm giving you a choice, Harry."

At the boy's vague expression he sought to clarify himself a bit.

"Will you heed my advice? I explained that you would be made to serve me however I saw fit...and that can still be arranged. You would follow my orders just as they do. You would probably even fear me...just as they do..." He allowed the thought hang in the air of the dining room.

"Or...you could be...more than that."

There was something in the way he said it that nearly made Harry agree to something he wasn't even sure of. He jarred his head a bit to clear away the fuzz. This certainly wasn't a time to lose focus.

"You seemed pretty sure of what you wanted from me when you brought me here. But now there's something else...?"

__

Ah...now he's thinking.

"Haven't you ever grasped for knowledge beyond what they're rationing you at that ridiculous school? Are not well-acquainted with the _Restricted Section_?"

Harry drew in a breath at the realization that he hadn't always been satisfied with the Hogwarts curriculum. It was true that he often desired the less sugar-coated version of a magical education. Could he get that from Voldemort?

"You see, I was the same way. To me, knowledge is knowledge...neither good nor evil...same as magic. Back then, there was a restricted section of the Hogwarts library. But it wasn't nearly as stocked as it is today and all it takes is for the Ministry to decide a spell isn't good for a young wizard to have his hands on for it to be labeled 'evil' and added to that restricted section."

He paused.

"You can only imagine what has been added over the years, Harry. Wouldn't you like to take some of that knowledge back?"

__

Merlin, yes...

"Yes..." he breathed involuntarily.

"To wield so much knowledge objectively is where true power stems from. Their fear has proven that they can't be trusted with that power. But you..."

Riddle stood up and the table cleared itself. Harry was far too entranced by the crimson orbs fixed on him to take much notice.

"...You'd make a worthy pupil." _If that fear can be transformed into trust..._

"You want to teach me the Dark Arts...?"

"....Prove me right, boy...... and I'll teach you everything..."

He had decided to deal with this on his own. No need to worry about the good side or bad. The 'good side' had lost a large amount of his respect as it was. And knowledge was knowledge, wasn't it?

".....Alright."

Lids fluttered down over red eyes.


	6. Quinque

V

Harry dreamed of blackness for what seemed like a long time before feelings of nervousness and yearning fluttered about him. He was alone, just as he had been the last time a dream that began this way. The empty, drafty quality was the same and somehow the boy knew any second Riddle's presence would be felt.

__

"You're a late sleeper, Potter."

__

Ah...

Wait...was he suppose to answer in a dream? Was this even a real dream? Riddle's voice sounded awfully distinct. And that red pulse of light was so strong and alluring....

__

"I....guess......"

A short derisive chortle followed this muttered response, and at the sound of it, the strange dream vacuum transfigured itself into the simple darkness behind closed lids.

__

"I expect your presence in the library shortly."

__

"...Fine."

The connection wavered and held for a moment or two the way one who has one more thing to say lingers at the end of a conversation. By the time Harry opened his eyes and sat up, it seemed very possible that he'd imagined it. With the curtains charmed shut the room was still quite dark, leaving Harry no way to ascertain the time of day. Sliding off the mattress, he felt his way to the bathroom and managed a quick shower in the dark.

As if the cool water had washed away the fog of sleep as well, Harry suddenly seemed to realize the implications of their dinner conversation the previous evening. The thoughts soared through his head in a panicked jumble.

__

Merlin, he's going to teach me. Lord Voldemort_ is going to teach _me_ all sorts of forbidden magic, and I agreed to it._..

He stumbled back into the bedroom proper to find a house elf waiting there with a candelabra.

"Mr. Potter must get dressed! Master is waiting."

"Yes, I know..." he mumbled, reaching for the clothing he'd left on the bed before his shower.

"No. Master wishes for Potter to wear these," he exclaimed, extending a bundle of clothing.

"More green?"

"Potter must! Master wishes it," the elf exclaimed looking around fearfully.

"Relax, I wasn't refusing to wear it. I was only wondering at his choice of color..."

There was no reply, and almost before Harry could do up the last button on his pants the elf took him by the arm and hurried him out into the hall. He was half yanked half dragged down to the first floor where Harry was forced to round a corner or lose a shoulder blade.

"You're going to get me--"

"Shh! Master is behind that door," the elf, Wodie, Harry finally realized, proclaimed.

He finally let go of the boy's arm and pushed him up to the door. When Harry hesitated to say or do anything, Wodie knocked three times and then vanished in a puff of smoke. A stern voice bade him enter, which he did after a moment's hesitation.

Riddle stood with his back to the door, gazing out over a plateau embracing the sea. His outer robe had been discarded over the back of a chair allowing the late morning sun to silhouette his slim form. In a baroque shirt and form-fitting trousers that disappeared down into his boots, Riddle looked every bit the noble horseman of a gothic novel - the type of wizard that every witch Ginny's age would swoon over.

There was something decidedly ironic about that concept. Even more ironic, Harry thought he might swoon as well as he knelt there waiting.

__

Get a grip Harry...

"Indeed, or you'll never be able to concentrate on your first assignment."

Harry colored darkly. There had to be someway to keep him out of his head at least _some_ of the time. He couldn't bring himself to look up when Riddle approached for fear of revealing his blush. But he managed not to stiffen this time.

He stared at the tips of the older wizard's boots until something hit the floor in front of him. He jumped in startlement, but relaxed to see that it was only a book.

"You're to have this entire book read before noon. We'll discuss the contents over lunch, and these..." he continued, dropping two more, "...are to be done by the end of the week."

Harry blanched. It had never taken him less than a day to read an entire book before, skimming included. Now he was expected to finish an entire book in a matter of hours? Was he insane?

"It _has_ been considered arguable."

Not again....

"Why must you continue to do that?"

"Do what, Potter?"

"Invade my thoughts."

Harry wasn't looking up, but he got the impression that Riddle shrugged.

"You belong to me Harry...as do your thoughts." He let his hand glide into the boy's locks. "Masters have found more unpleasant ways of amusing themselves with their servants. Would you prefer that _I_ found some other way as well?"

The implication made the boy suddenly more uncomfortable. The hand continued to caress his hair and cheek sweetly, subtly contrasting the Dark Lord's words.

"No, but...doesn't this also amuse you?" he asked in a voice he barely recognized as his own. Riddle's hand stilled immediately.

Oh god. It was too bold. _What was I thinking?_

Riddle guided the boy to his feet and forced his chin up so that he might look at his face. Anxious green met intense red and the boy could feel his mind being wracked. The color found its merry way back to Harry's face, but before he could look away Riddle's mouth was on his.

He felt his knees weakening and his stomach trembling but he was held firmly by a hand on the back of his neck and on his waist. Colors began to dance before his vision from a lack of oxygen, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the exchange even for his own sake. Fortunately, Riddle pulled away before any damage was done.

"There'll be plenty of time for that sort of...instruction. You've enough on your plate for now," he said softly. He left, leaving Harry trembling with the loss of contact and the realization of what just happened. He'd _wanted_ Riddle to kiss him. He still wanted him to, and Merlin only knew what else.

__

Why is this happening to me?

Harry knew it would be some feat to read a book with those images to contend with, yet he still picked up the books and leafed through the one due by noon. It wasn't terribly long, though there didn't seem to be any pictures to make up the bulk like the texts at Hogwarts. _Auras and Magical Signatures._ Should be an interesting read, he mused, taking a seat on one of the sofas - there were quite a few and wall to wall shelves of books interrupted only by windows. Glancing once more at the door, he opened the book and prayed he could finish by noon.

At 11:58am Harry burst into the dining room clutching the book he'd just finished. Riddle had been raising a glass of white wine to his lips but he lowered it at the sight of his charge.

"I've finished it...sir."

"Indeed. Sit."

The table filled with food as soon as he took his chair. He hesitated in taking up a fork; Riddle was considering him with an odd expression.

"I do hope you've absorbed the contents of that book in your haste to finish it."

"Will I be practicing any of it soon?"

"Tonight."

A moments pause. "With...you?"

"Yes and no..." Riddle stood up and began to slowly pace around his end of the dining room. "There's to be a gathering tonight. You're to come along." As Harry stared at him expectantly, the older wizard waved a wayward hand in his direction. "The food isn't charmed to feed you, boy."

He slowly selected a few dishes and started to eat but a thought struck him. "You're not eating any?"

Riddle swirled his wine. "My taste for many things died with my last body. Fortunately, food is no longer a necessity." His tone neither implied nor suggested that he regretted it. "A good wine, however, still holds some delectation."

Harry vaguely wondered why the Dark Lord bothered with fruit and wine if he didn't need it, but supposed some things couldn't be let go of.

Riddle continued to consider the boy as he ate, which he noticed made him reasonably uncomfortable. His hand would falter with his utensils now and then or he'd risk a glance in Riddle's direction. It was rather peculiar the way Harry's bold streaks came and went. The older wizard couldn't decide which side he found more appealing. He supposed Harry would settle into one given a little time.

__

Wonder which it'll be...

When the soft clattering of utensils came to halt Riddle chose that moment to begin asking the boy questions about the book he'd finished. He understood more than expected and he seemed to have an affinity for the abstract. There were some concepts that needed elaboration, such as methods of evaluating magical strength, but the results were promising.

Even more assuring was Harry's attentiveness. He offered his complete attention, and took in every word fallen from the Dark Lord's mouth. Riddle reveled in the feeling of those emerald eyes on him as he paced and lectured. He desired the boy and had no doubts about Potter's feelings either - like his fear, it rolled off of him in waves. And if that wasn't proof enough, then Potter's behavior in the library was sufficient. As soon as he'd felt the stirrings of real passion in the boy, he knew it was time to pull away. As entertaining as it was, there was no sense in getting him all hot and bothered......yet. After all, there _would_ be plenty of time for that.

Eventually he'd released the boy to do as he pleased until midnight - that was when he would call his Death Eaters. He thought to prepare the boy for what these meetings entailed but decided it would be more beneficial for him to learn on his own. It just wouldn't do to coddle him - the boy had to think on his own, after all.

Riddle returned to the cellar where work patiently awaited him.

Harry spent much of the time after lunch wandering around the mansion and thinking, and after two hours his thoughts namely landed on the gathering and what it would entail. Death Eaters were the worst of wizards and everyone knew their society was supported primarily by their anti-muggle sentiment. Would there be some classic show of muggle abuse to get the ball rolling? Would he have to participate?

Potter shuddered to think of it.

He may be playing along out of lack of better options, but he didn't think he could ever adopt as petty a principle as 'muggles are inferior'. He hoped Riddle didn't expect him to whole-heartedly join in the festivities. In giving the Dark Lord his word to submit to his service, he never considered what his role would be amongst willing followers. They must still hate him, especially Lucius. Merlin, would Riddle allow them to satisfy their violent loathing for him? If he did, Harry didn't think he could continue to keep his promise.

__

Why shouldn't he let them? A small voice asked within himself. Harry considered this and couldn't think of any concrete reason why Lord Voldemort shouldn't or wouldn't allow his Death Eaters to make jolly good sport of The-Boy-Who-Lived now that he was in the Dark Lord's possession. Actually, it made perfect sense considering how lenient Riddle had been thus far. There was always a catch, wasn't there?

Suddenly Harry dreaded the gathering even more. He knew there had to be reason Riddle didn't bother to explain or warn him - just told him to go to one of the sitting rooms on the first floor a few minutes before midnight. If he still had his wand at least he'd feel a little less hopeless. But the uncertainty made him expect the worst, and 'the worst' could get pretty bad around here.

Harry ended up on the first floor and decided to at least find the room in advance so as not to add tardiness to his list of troubles. He found the entrance hall and front door but didn't need to try it to know it was locked and warded. He soon came to a dead-end hallway with an arched stone door at the end, rather out of place in the lavish Victorian decor. As he lifted one foot in its direction, his left earlobe erupted in pain. He stumbled out of the hall with a surprised cry, amazed by the sudden retreat of the pain. Though he'd forgotten about the earring thus far, it didn't take him long to connect the dots.

__

'...just a precaution...'

An interesting find in the least. So this was one of the places he obviously wasn't encouraged to explore. That meant it warranted looking into, or at least inquiring about it. Funny the earring didn't go off at the front doors - one would think....

Suddenly a 'pop' and a puff of smoke had him back in his bedroom.

"--The _hell?..."_

"Potter mustn't disturb that place."

"Wodie? Why mustn't it be disturbed? What is it?"

The elf shook its head and snapped his fingers, bringing them to a smaller dining room.

"Time for Potter to eat," it announced and the table filled with food.

'What about Ri-- I mean, Lord Voldemort? He's not coming?"

"Master is busy. Potter eat alone."

Not bothering to ask what his master was doing, Harry ate and set off to find his room again, belatedly realizing he'd forgotten to ask Wodie where it was in relation to this dining room. If he got lost _again_ Riddle would think he was some sort of dawdling screw-up. Wishing for one of the Hogworts portraits, Harry wandered until he found a stairway to the second floor. Now he was on familiar ground.

__

Phew.

En route to his bedroom, Harry finally noticed they lack of portraits around the mansion. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen one anywhere so far. One would think an old mansion like this would have quite a few of them. That just _had _ to be significant in some way, didn't it?

Strange warded doors, no portraits, the secrecy...Something was going on. This was Lord Voldemort! Something was always going on or being plotted. Harry wondered what any of this had to do with the Death Eaters, IF it had anything to do with them at all.

Harry decided to have a lie-down until it was time for the gathering of Riddle's followers. At least he could sort all this nonsense out and brace himself. He had a feeling that he would need all of his mental strength that night.


	7. Sex

VI

"Ready Potter?"

That depends, Harry thought wryly.

"I suppose."

"Good. I'll tell you to come into the ballroom shortly, but first we're to test your comprehensive skills. After reading the first book, you should be able to tell me how many of my seemly followers have arrived thus far..."

"But I can't see--oh. You mean sense them."

"Very good," he replied sarcastically.

Harry took a breath a tried to remember the book's instructions for identifying auras and degrees of magical power. It was all very abstract and hard to picture, but he did have a bit of experience with that type of magic, right?

The first step was to relax, that much he remembered well enough. But 'relax' wasn't the easiest thing to accomplish as nervous as he was about what could happen in that room. He ordered his breathing and closed his eyes in an attempt to accomplish the first step. Riddle was silent during this time but the boy could still feel him waiting patiently for an answer in the back of his mind . He tried to reach out but all he could feel was Riddle's presence somewhere nearby.

At that moment Harry might have sworn an audible bell rang in his head.

He had been 'sensing' Riddle all of this time. Why should it be any different with other wizards? Sure he and Riddle had the connection to make it easier, but the concept was the same.

Potter tuned the Dark Lord's presence out as much as he could and scanned the power surrounding him. There were certainly foreign pools of energy in the room with Riddle, but how many was unclear. It felt like a mixed blur of power.

"I can't tell. It's too jumbled up."

"Then separate them," was the simple reply.

Harry decided to give it another shot.

Ok..I've already separated Riddle from 'them'. That was easy because his is so prominent...perhaps there's another prominent one there.

He reached out with his own magic and tentatively allowed the blur to wash over him. Indeed there was another strong aura in the mix, and while it wasn't nearly as powerful as Lord Voldemort's, it was recognizable - Lucius Malfoy. Elated by this accomplishment, Harry quickly moved on to the others. There were at least four different auras left, and one of them he suspected was Snape's.

"Five. There are five others there with you," he answered somewhat shakily.

There was a thoughtful pause.

"Actually there are six, but Longdon and Adams are puny enough to be considered one. That was nearly acceptable for your first try Potter."

Harry wasn't even going to try to figure out whether or not that had been a compliment. Whatever it had been, Riddle was done for the time being and had receded from his mind. Harry let out a breath and leaned against wall in the sitting room to which he'd been sent to wait. He wondered how many Death Eaters there were and if they'd all be there for the gathering. What went on at these meetings besides what he'd dreamed in the past? Muggle abuse? Planning? and if so, planning of what?

He was curious, anxious, and afraid all at the same time. They would all have arrived soon and Riddle still hadn't indicated what he was to do in there. His earlier worry that he'd be made into dark wizard sport for the lot of them swam around in his gut. At that moment anything seemed possible.

Harry very much wished for a friendly face. But he was quickly reminded of why he was still in this situation and soon labeled the notion cowardly and liberated it. He had decided to handle this on his own. It was his decision and he would tough it out.

His countenance hardened with new reserve just before Riddle resurfaced.

"Walk across the entrance hall and into the ballroom. I'll be standing just ahead of the door. Approach me properly and kneel beside me."

So it was finally show time.

He left the sitting room as instructed and went to the grand set of French doors containing the ballroom. He could see a large mass of black robes in the center of the room just by looking through the glass of the doors and some of his confidence faltered.

"Any day, Potter..."

At the sound of the doors opening everyone in the room turned and Harry was met by the unforgiving white masks of well over a dozen Death Eaters.

There's so many...

"You'll do wisely to give my pet some room."

Riddle's voice was a reminder of the situation at hand and that he still had a task to complete. The group parted to reveal their master waiting calmly with his hands clasped behind his back. Harry tried to walk as steadily as possible with so many eyes on him but found it difficult. Luckily, he was expected to crawl the rest of the way, easier to do in his edgy state. From the floor, it was as if they all towered above him, especially Riddle, whose finely embroidered robes Harry brought to his lips when he reached him.

There was a collective murmur at the exchange and Harry could feel the blush beginning. Why did this have to be so public?

"You'll grow accustomed to it all, boy."

Harry didn't reply, but crawled to Riddle's right side and knelt there as thin fingers slithered into his hair. He was caressed in a silent sign of approval that, somewhere inside, Harry was thankful for. Riddle began to address his followers in his beautifully cultured voice, and it began to matter less and less that there were over a dozen people watching him be pet like a loyal dog by the Dark Lord.

He tried to listen to the meeting and learn more about the followers gathered there. He was able to match a few more auras to identities since Riddle called them all by name. He supposed that was how The Dark Lord was able to identify them all with their masks and robes on. Some of them, Harry guessed, were Ministry officials, who imparted details about the security at the Ministry headquarters. Riddle questioned each of them about various assignments and for whatever reason, dealt several of them a hefty C_ruciatus_.

Surprisingly enough, the meeting barely concerned him at all. He took a few moments to look around, after all he had never been in this part of the mansion. The ballroom was adequately large and airy, but with so few chandeliers lit, the tapering shadows made the room's size foreboding. The drapes were all shut and small spots of light reflected off of the highly polished floor tiles. Eventually, all of their attention remained on Lord Voldemort and his kneeling person became irrelevant. The rhythmic petting had calmed him considerably and he was able to clear away the remaining anxieties. Instead, he observed everybody and their demeanors. The general consensus was caution and some fear, but a select few gave off other impressions. Malfoy, for example was oddly composed and a tad amused. _Strange._ Two more of them seemed a little excited, about what, though, was anybody's guess.

Riddle gave them instructions and things to look into, nothing that seemed very pressing in Harry's opinion until the subject of new recruits was brought up. There was a nearly tangible tension in the air at the mention of sons and daughters to be made into new Death Eaters. If Harry understood the line of questioning, Riddle had been expecting one of them this evening but they were nowhere to be found.

"'Suspicious', you say? Your son's absence would be...'noted'?

A medium height hulking Death Eater stuttered a response, "H-he is with his relations in the south. If I...I were to bring him here, surely--"

"I suppose you might have thought of that before assuring me of his attendance tonight."

"I...he--"

"That is very unfortunate, Crabbe."

'Crabbe' shook his head in disbelief as Riddle raised his wand and muttered a burning curse. The stocky wizard began a round of gurgling screams but there was no physical evidence that anything was happening to him at all. It reminded Harry of the curse Riddle used on him on his first day in the mansion.

The curse carried on and so did Crabbe, dropping to his knees in agony. Riddle simply watched, as did the others in the room, until Harry noticed the fingers slowly tightening in his hair. The touches slowed and traveled down to his right ear where they lingered. At the realization that he was gradually growing hard, Harry's mind froze.

What if everyone saw?

So far most of them were caught up with Crabbe's reaction to the curse. A few watched Voldemort warily as if expecting him to curse the rest of them. Lucius, still exuding his air of confidence observed everyone, including the young wizard kneeling on the floor. And, another wizard - Snape - watched Harry as if he were the only other wizard in the ballroom.

Harry could feel him watching and suddenly his anger began to build. What did Snape care was happening to him at this point? It was his and the headmaster's fault that he was forced to stay with Riddle. Why should Snape be so concerned?

As his previous contempt resurfaced at the sight of Snape, Harry did something he thought would shell-shock his old professor and his Headmaster when he was informed of it - he looked the potion's master in what he assumed were his eyes and drew one of Riddle's fingers into his mouth.

It was suddenly as if the scene has been muted.

Crabbe, having passed out from the pain, lay motionless on the polished marble floor as the echoes of his screams died away. Snape and Lucius stiffened noticeably, the former exuding waves of disgust and surprise.

That's right, Snape, this is what you and Dumbledore have condemned me to. Funny thing is, it isn't as horrible as I thought it would be...

Riddle glanced down at the boy and his line of sight, his behavior suddenly well understood. The little imp was full of interesting ideas.

"I know what you're up to, boy, and while it's beautifully_ Slytherin of you, we do have an audience..."_

He felt the boy pause and swallow before glancing at the rest of the room's occupants.

"You...want me to stop it then?"

"I want you to go up to my chambers and wait for me."

Potter's heart skipped a beat.

"Alright."

Wordlessly, Riddle removed his hand and allowed the boy to stand. Woodenly, he headed for the door, turning at the sounds of Parseltoungue.

"You'd do well to ask Wodie for assistance this time.."

Coloring a little, he answered in kind, "Of course....sir."

He left with the feeling of over a dozen pairs of eyes on his back and the realization that the exchange must have seemed very provocative using the snake language and all. Harry assumed Riddle knew this and was hoping it would seem that way. Or was it?

He was being sent to his 'chambers'. What did that mean?

Merlin, you KNOW what it means. Jeeze...and I was only trying to piss Snape off...

Harry took some relief in the fact that the meeting wasn't as horrible as he thought it would be.

Wodie was only a call away, and in no time they were magically whisked away to a third-story hall with a large pair of oak doors at the end. The only problem that left was exactly _where_ on the third story they were.

Figures, he thought. He wondered if he was supposed to stay out in the hall or actually wait inside. There was the thick feeling of wards on the doors, as was expected on the doors to Lord Voldemort's 'chambers' but they didn't seem to be barring his way. And sure enough, when he tried the knob it gave silently.

The doors opened to a den with stained glass windows and richly carved furniture. There was a large desk on his right and a fireplace across the room. Bookshelves, end tables....this certainly wasn't what Harry had been expecting. The young wizard colored to think of exactly what he'd been expecting.

Merlin, why couldn't he make up his mind? Back in the library he wanted nothing more but for Riddle not to let go. The older wizard's touch was so alluring despite what it was supposed to be like. By all means, he should be repulsed. But, thus far, Riddle hadn't done too much to disgust Harry. Once their arrangement had been settled, there were no more burning curses or Unforgivables. He was even teaching the boy.

So why the butterflies?

Harry chose to sit in an armchair by the lifeless fireplace. The room wasn't cold, but it was particularly cool for a third-story chamber in the middle of summer. There were a few candles lit, probably by Wodie, that made the room more comforting than it probably should have been for Lord Voldemort's den.

Harry supposed he was still unsure of himself. His body wanted all sorts of things from the older wizard that his mind couldn't quite fathom. Riddle seemed at least mildly curious about him sexually, if the kiss was any clear indication. But what could he possibly have to offer the Dark Lord in that department? He certainly didn't think he was anything special to look at Plus, his sexual experiences were sadly limited to the few hormonal gropings he participated in the locker rooms. There had been no girls to speak of after Cho, and while he got 'urges' now and then, he certainly never acted on them.

He caught mental wind of Riddle's magic moving about somewhere far off in the mansion and thought perhaps the gathering was finally over. A clock above the mantle indicated that it was some time after one in the morning. Thanks to his nap, he wasn't as tired as he should have been at that hour. He noticed an object on the desk - a book - with the place marked by a red ribbon.

Julius Caesar. Why a muggle book would interest the Dark Lord so much was beyond Harry, but he went over to skim through the marked page. He knew the basic plot of the play already, and it seemed Caesar hadn't been murdered yet. He read a little into the act before he could feel Riddle approaching the den with company. The wards on the door skewed his perception a bit and would have to wait till they were opened to know who was with him.

He set the book down and tried to decide where to put himself. He settled on kneeling a bit away from the door (one couldn't go wrong with simply kneeling, after all) and tried to appear calm when the door opened. Riddle entered and took a seat near the fireplace, followed by Lucius. Harry paled.

"Potter, fetch us some Scotch from behind the desk."

"Yes, sir."

"Use the short glasses and fill them a third of the way."

Having accomplished that much, Harry handed them their glasses. Lucius accepted his with a small sneer and took a sip.

"Where should I..."

"Right here," Riddle answered, indicating the space beside his chair.

Harry knelt yet again beside the Dark Lord and nearly sighed when slender fingers found their way into his hair. If they kept this up, he thought he might melt into a puddle at Riddle's feet.

"My Lord, you've trained the boy very well, if you don't mind my saying so."

"These things are never very difficult. One need only know where to begin."

"It is satisfying to see the great Harry Potter finally where he belongs. I knew it would only be a matter of time, My Lord."

"'Satisfying' would be a bit of an understatement, Lucius. But yes, it was always a simple matter of time."

He set his glass down with soft thud, a dangerous glimmer behind his eyes.

"Now Lucius, do tell me where you're son disappeared to this evening. I haven't forgotten your promise to bring him round."

Harry couldn't see Malfoy's face but he seemed to become anxious at the mention of his son.

"I thought I'd let him rest up a bit more before undergoing the initiation. It is rather..._trying..._if I remember mine correctly."

Riddle took his time, swirling his scotch and tangling his fingers in Harry's dark locks. Slowly a smirk formed on his smooth face.

"Yes. Yours was particularly strenuous. I often wondered if you had what it took to follow me."

Lucius hesitated at the admission. "Surely now you--"

"Sometimes I still wonder."

"...My Lord?'

"You'll bring him to the next gathering Lucius. No excuses, or you'll fair worse than dear Crabbe. Is that clear?

"Yes...Yes, of course, My Lord. I only mean what is best for Draco."

"You'll do well to mind your own skin, Malfoy, or your son will be the least of your concerns. Wodie will see you out," he claimed with an air of dismissal. He waved a hand and the doors opened to reveal the house-elf waiting nervously. Lucius bowed respectfully and took his leave as he was ordered, not failing to send Harry a nasty look.

With Lucius gone, the room was all too quiet. Riddle's hand was still nestled gently in the boy's locks as his strokes became thoughtful.

"I'm assuming you took notes on what's transpired this evening."

"Yes."

"Then you have a reasonable idea of what we are dealing with?"

We?

"What do you mean?"

Riddle abruptly stood and began to pace. His tone, more than his words, made Harry feel as if he was missing the painfully obvious.

"Did you learn nothing from their behavior? Lucius' countenance?"

Harry wracked his confused brain.

"Well.....he's..."

The older wizard watched the boy, arms crossed expectantly.

".......stalling?"

Riddle continued to pace.

"Yes, he is, and he isn't alone, if you haven't noticed. Now why do you suppose that is?"

Harry didn't know Lucius to any great extent, but the man was a notorious conspirator. He'd orchestrated the whole 'Chamber of Secrets' charade from behind the scenes, after all.

"Maybe he's just buying himself time. You know, to try something."

Riddle stopped pacing.

"Indeed. And we all know what bad apples do to the proverbial bunch."

Potter began wondered when this had become an issue that concerned him as well but let it slide for the time being. The more pressing matter seemed to be that once again, Riddle was watching him with the most considering expression.

"But that's a matter for another time."

"......Come here."

The mental command startled him and it was a moment before he moved to respond.

"Your behavior this evening was most...intriguing," Riddle began softly. He carefully slid the backs of his fingers down the boy's face, enjoying the way Harry's breath quivered in response. "It does leave one wondering whether or not you ever consider the consequences."

"...Sir?"

Riddle let out a short grunt of frustration.

"I'll hear no more of this 'sir'. I'm not one of your misfit professors."

His reaction confused Harry to some degree. If it was pissing him off so much, why didn't he say anything sooner? Nevertheless, Potter acquiesced. Riddle pulled the younger wizard to him till they were flush against each other. Potter let out a small noise of surprise.

"So what is it you really want, Potter? Is this it?" he asked in a tone that went straight to Harry's groin. Fingers slowly trailed down his spine and back up to the nape of his neck. Crimson irises caught the light of a nearby candle giving them depth the boy thought he might drown in.

Harry didn't think he could move if his life depended on it.

Riddle grinned inwardly at the boy's reaction. Harry was so surprisingly responsive to his touch. He didn't want to rush the younger wizard, especially since the results could be disastrous. But so far he seemed so willing.

Still, better to test him a little more.

Caressing the bare nape of Potter's neck, Riddle guided him over to the ebony desk and leaned the boy against it. He allowed his lips to hover over the skin of Harry's neck. When he spoke, little puffs of breath tickled the sensitive flesh.

"Are you truly prepared for this? Because now would be the time to inform me."

He finally kissed the neck, trailing his lips lightly down to the collar of Harry's shirt.

"Nnnh. Yes," he breathed in response. Riddle took note of the boy's hardness developing between them.

He's aching for this...but why go easy on him?

"I don't think you are. The-Boy-Who-Lived getting off on Lord Voldemort....who could believe you?"

Oh, it was cruel and Riddle knew it.

Harry was completely speechless. His skin tingled, his erection strained against his trousers...what could he say to convince him?

"I think you're just curious. You don't really want this, do you Potter?" He slid his hands under the boy's shirt feeling him tense at his cold touch.

Harry nodded furiously. Why didn't he believe him?

"Um, I think not."

Suddenly, Harry grabbed one of Riddle's wrists and pulled his hand down to his erection, moaning at the contact. Riddle was amused but the boy's desperation. It was true - he was being a terrible tease, but why not make the boy work for it?

"So you are_ ready...physically. But...what of my desires? Do you expect me to simply act on _your_ lust?"_

"No.....but....."

Riddle shook his head. "Lesson one: if you want something from me, you'll have to truly work for it."

He pulled back and smoothed his robes. Harry, panting, watching him back away in disbelief.

"You may return to your room now." And just like that, the spell was broken. Riddle collected the book from his desk and headed for a door to the right of the fireplace. "Don't forget your assignments. I plan on discussing them with you in a day or so."

Harry watched him disappear behind the door wordlessly. So that was it. All of that just to leave him high-and-dry. He felt a scream building inside of him as he lingered in the room. 'Work for it'? How? He'd barely been able to breathe over there. How could Riddle do such a--

Wait...this is Voldemort. Of course he'd 'do such a thing'. Working Potter into a state of impossible arousal was just the sort of thing he'd do before leaving him hanging. Harry didn't know why he didn't expect it.

I'll just have to make him want it as well, he decided on his way out into the hall. He purposely failed to summon Wodie for directions. After all, he'd need a good wander to work off his arousal before returning to his room where sleep would be hard coming.

A.N:

Now i know why they call it 'fore_play_' - it's so much fun! =) Sorry if the chapter title misled anyone...but it just happens to be six in roman numerals..couldn't help it . I'm glad you're generally enjoying the fic. Your reviews are great as well as your suggestions and commentary. About the ministry and all that...I intended to leave the 'good side' out of the story as much as possible so that i could play around with H&V some more. I left Snape in because he serves dual purposes: interaction with the good side and well.....your find out the other role later.

Srry for the wait...but i'm taking my time with it. Gotta keep it constant, ya know?

I re-loaded all the other chapters with more corrections....hopefully it clears up any confusion.


	8. Septem

VII

....................

Setting a small cauldron to simmer, Riddle scanned the mansion briefly for Potter's whereabouts: the library, catching up on his reading, no doubt. Surveying the spanned and chopped ingredients on the workbench, Riddle wondered if putting the boy to work down there wasn't such a poor idea. But then, the ingredients were so rare and priceless it was probably better that student hands were kept free of the lab.

He could understand how one might enjoy brewing potions to some degree - maybe even find it relaxing. After all, it was easy to push stray thoughts aside and just allow one's self to concentrate on preparing ingredients. But to make a career of it...the thought didn't sit well with the dark wizard.

He moved out of the lab and further into the cellar where the portrait was kept. It was, of course, devoid of its subject - not surprising at all really. The last time Riddle had seen the portrait occupied was several months ago, and prior to that, years. Still, he found himself checking it now and then. It was a silly habit that reminded him of his early years as a dark wizard, but he refused to see it as such at the present moment.

He slid the boy's wand from his robes and fingered the cool wood thoughtfully. The subtle vibration of magic potential running through it at his touch was more than a simple hint of it's power. Riddle knew the wands were special. They were like brothers almost, both sharing the feathers of a single phoenix. He hadn't been able to directly attack the boy with it and vice versa. Those wands weren't meant to do battle with each other...they were meant for unification. Salazar himself confirmed the fact months ago during his last appearance. What was meant specifically by 'unification' was still unclear to the Dark Lord, and that was why he found himself considering the dark, vacant canvas for some sort of answer.

Yet none came, as he expected. Salazar Slytherin never lingered unless something of importance needed to be said. The very first time he came to the portrait, Riddle had summoned him there through a fairly difficult process that probably wouldn't have worked if it hadn't been for his lineage. Afterwards, the great wizard's visits had been few and far between. But, each left the Dark Lord purposely enlightened.

__

"You've been wrong about the boy. Think of the wands."

"Yes, I know. They're connected somehow--."

"--They're bound_ somehow, as are the wizards that wield them. You'd do well not to ignore it, Tom."_

He remembered the words from the last time the portrait bore a face and had allowed them to govern his course of actions thereafter. No, he hadn't "ignored it" as the great wizard had cautioned against. But finding the boy's place in the war and on _his_ side was a delicate task, especially with Albus and possibly even his own Death Eaters seeking to ruin him. The headmaster had done nothing to recapture the boy thus far, but Riddle would be a blithering fool to believe the old man wasn't planning anything. Probably waiting for the opportune moment to strike - dark forced divided, completely unawares... Unless he wanted the bothersome old coot to actually succeed, Lucius' little secret needed to be revealed and dealt with as soon as possible.

He cast a final look at the portrait, surprised to have found resolution even in the great wizard's absence. Back in the main room, his restorative draught simmered gently in the large cauldron. He needed to gather a few different ingredients for this final batch. He supposed he could take the boy along and make it mildly educational. Besides, the boy could use some time out of the mansion.

Riddle left the lab, pausing to reinforce the wards on the cellar doors. He got an odd feeling - almost a flutter in his chest - at the installation of the last one. However, it was very brief, almost nonexistent. Riddle hesitated there in the entryway before heading upstairs to the library.

.. .. ..

Lucius traced the brim of an empty brandy glass with his thumb. The glass had been empty for nearly a half hour, but this time he chose not to refill it. He wasn't drunk. No, not really. He simply brought himself to that inventive stage between tipsy and sober where the cognitive functions are adequate but thought flows much more freely.

In this stage, he mulled over his plans, already set into motion. He knew without the draught the Dark Lord's health would swiftly decline, or so Severus had assured him., making him as vulnerable to attack as they possibly could. He also knew one of his houselves would have little trouble disrupting the completion of the draught once it had been smuggled into the mansion. All they needed to do was lay low until the Dark Lord's condition weakened...and then strike.

With Voldemort out of the way, the position would be his for the taking. Severus would be kindly thanked for his input and sent into his traitorous oblivion. Lucius knew the potions master sought to bring down the Dark Lord for his own reasons, and while that was fine for now, he couldn't have the man meddling with his own ascension.

A feeling of excitement welled up within the blonde wizard. The ministry, the school, hell even the entire Wizarding world would finally be within his grasp. Years ago Lord Voldemort told him that he seemed "rather ambitious" and that it could be either an excellent or dangerous quality for a wizard to have. Lucius finally found himself agreeing...just a bit.

As for his son, he wasn't to become a Death Eater under the present Dark Lord. No...Lucius had reserved him a place as the first under the Malfoy rein. Others, like poor Crabbe, were attempting to hold off as well, but Voldemort was no idiot. He was getting impatient, which meant the draught had to be destroyed as soon as possible. At the next gathering, or they'd all be sent into an oblivion.

.. .. ..

Harry twitched involuntarily as he felt Riddle's aura approaching. It had been stationary somewhere in lower level of the mansion for a good couple of hours but it seemed the older wizard had finished up whatever it was he was doing down there. Harry was aware of him as he flipped through the last of the books he was to read - one on mind-altering spells. It was actually a pretty interesting read. Who knew you could make a person think or feel anything you wanted them to without going near _Imperious._ By applying the right amount of magical force, he could have had Snape praising his potion-making in front of all of Slytherin.

Well, of course there were better ways to use such a skill...

Almost instantly he thought of what happened the previous night in Riddle's study...or, what _didn't_ happen. Why, with a little mental push in the right direction, Riddle wouldn't be able to stop himself. The strange thing was that the older wizard seemed to want him. What prevented him from just strutting in and doing as he pleased?

Harry sighed audibly and set the book down. Running his fingers through the dark overgrowth that was his hair, he came to the conclusion that he needed more from Riddle to understand him. He acknowledged the Dark Lord's power nearby by straightening his clothes and sitting up on the sofa. He hadn't seen Riddle since the previous night and wondered a tad anxiously what he'd want.

The doors to the library swung open with a soft creak and Riddle stepped inside. He was draped in a deep green wool cloak and he carried another on his arm.

"Come."

Harry got up warily and walked over accepting the cloak Riddle handed him. Riddle turned away and headed back out of the library.

"We're going out for a while."

Harry followed him to the stairs but stopped when he unfolded the cloak and his wand tumbled out.

__

My wand!

He honestly didn't expect to see his wand again anytime soon.

"Is there something wrong, Potter?"

Harry looked to Riddle to find him already near the second landing.

"No, I'm coming."

He hurried excitedly down the stairs like a giddy child, slipping the cloak around his shoulders as he went. He could tell the wand had been tampered with...probably to prevent him using it on the Dark Lord or escape. _Figures._

When they were finally outside of the mansion Harry was overcome by the breathtaking view of Irish hills. It was as if they were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded mostly by lush green and perhaps a shore off to the west.

Powerful wards bore down on them as they neared the main property's edge. He followed Riddle right through them and away from the mansion into a patch of trees. There the Dark Lord stopped and considered the boy with a thoughtful expression. Harry looked around awkwardly.

"You're seventeen."

No he was...wait......._oh._ He nodded, somewhat surprised that today was his birthday.

"Do you know how to apparate?"

"No, si--" he blundered, quickly remembering not to call him 'sir'. He, Ron, and Hermione had tried to figure it out a few times but they'd all been too afraid of getting splinched to actually try it on their own.

"Well, it's not very difficult, but it does take considerable concentration the first few times to avoid some...unpleasant circumstances."

Harry could imagine what those "unpleasant" circumstances might entail and winced internally.

"I want you to give it a try. I'm sure I needn't explain how useful a skill apparition is."

"No. Just tell me what do."

"Good. Now I want you to visualize a place nearby...like over there by those bushes. Close your eyes and imagine you're standing right there next to them." Harry complied, squeezing his eyes shut and praying he survived his first attempt. He felt Riddle move in close behind him. Warm breath tickled Harry's ear when he spoke. "Be aware of every park of yourself..._every_ particle...and send it to the place you're imagining."

Harry breathed in deeply and imagined the group of bushes a dozen or so meters away. _Every part. Every particle--_

Suddenly Harry disappeared in a 'pop' and reappeared a few feet away in a half-dressed disheveled heap with a yelp of surprise. He was panting as he realized what had happened and somewhat shocked to find his shirt and cloak on the ground where he had been previously standing. Riddle smirked as Harry scrambled back into his clothing.

"That was nearly decent for a first attempt. Most don't make it anywhere in one piece."

"You mean I could have been killed?"

"I mean you could have lost a few limbs in the process. Nothing serious."

Harry blinked.

"Come, try again. Concentrate a bit harder, and this time be aware of _every_ part of you...even your clothing."

Harry could feel the blush starting as he tried again. He filled his mind with the image of the bush cluster and imagined his body there. Within a matter of seconds, he felt the tug of magic on his being and vanished in another 'pop'. This time he reappeared in the general area he'd been aiming for. When he realized what he'd done he couldn't fight the grin.

__

I apparated! And only on my second try!

"You were still a bit off," Riddle criticized on his way over.

"Only by a couple of meters," he answered aloud, too excited to use mental speech.

"A few meters could mean the difference between landing on the cliff or in the air beside it. You'd do well to stick to precision."

His pride somewhat deflated, Harry glanced around. "So you want me to try it again?"

"I think that's enough for now. I have something to accomplish before evening." He held out his hand to the boy. "I'll apparate us there." Harry took his hand and instantly they vanished only to reappear in a thick, dark wood. The air was noticeably colder, especially for a summer afternoon.

"Where are we?"

"Norway. This is an enchanted forest, so be watchful."

Harry hugged his cloak about himself trying to guess what it was they were watching for. He followed Riddle through the forest and over a fallen log where they stopped.

"Do you know how to recognize sunspell?" At Harry's negative reply, he proceeded to explain. "It's a magical flower that is one plant in the daylight and a completely different plant in the moonlight. It only grows where both the sun and moon can reach it."

"What is it used for?"

Riddle continued on towards the west. "Its nightly form yields a deadly extract used in rare poisons and its day form is used to restore youth. Together they have incredible preservative powers."

After a few minutes of silence, Harry continued. "You're brewing some sort of potion then?"

"Yes."

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. He remembered thinking it must have taken some incredible charms to restore the Dark Lord to his current state. Perhaps he used a potion instead.

__

"Precisely. Bet you never imagined potions could be so useful."

"Oh, I always knew potions could be useful. I failed to see how scrubbing cauldrons till my fingers bled taught me a damned thing about them."

"Surely a few measly cauldrons weren't too much for The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"Not too much...just too many."

Riddle sent a wave of amusement across their connection before stopping at a rocky slope.

"There should be some at the top." He placed his hand on Harry's shouldered and apparated them to the top of the slope. There were patches of late afternoon sunlight here and there shining on yellow and white blossoms. "Don't touch the yellow ones - they can rot your fingers right off."

A bit on edge, Harry watched Riddle pick off the petals off a small white blossom. "Take the petals of a few of them and meet me up ahead." Riddle continued up the slope to where it leveled off and disappeared over the other side. Harry quickly de-petaled five or six flowers before hurrying up the slope after the Dark Lord.

He found the older wizard stooping near the trunk of a tree holding a vile out to a brightly colored snake. There were the sounds of Parseltoungue before it gave up some of its venom.

"We have to wait a bit for the sun to set to get more petals," Riddle declared before leaning back against a large stone. He observed Harry with mild interest as Potter did the same with a nearby tree. Harry could sense the awkward silence blanketing them and his mind instantly returned to the book he'd been reading.

__

With the right amount of magical force....

Harry suddenly thought now would be a good time to try one of the spells. He mentally recited the proper words before attempting it with something simple. There was a fruit tree nearby - Harry concentrated on it and tried to silently urge the Dark Lord to take a fruit off the tree.

Minutes went by and it didn't seem to be working till the older wizard glanced pointedly at the tree. After a moment he pulled the sample of venom from his cloak and began to study it in the sunlight.

Well, that had almost worked.

Perhaps a stronger image would work better.

Repeating the spell again, Harry conjured up the most provocative images that he could and hurled them at the Dark Lord. As he waited anxiously to see if it worked the most embarrassing thing happened.

Riddle turned to Harry and began to laugh.

Harry colored severely.

"My, aren't we determined? Surely you didn't think your randy little fantasies would be enough?"

Harry didn't reply.

"And what exactly were you trying to have me do? You sent quite a selection."

"I was only experimenting," he muttered.

"Well, you need direction. Allow me." Riddle was silent for a brief moment before Harry found himself sprinting over to the fruit tree and snatching at a round unripened fruit. Riddle released the spell before he could actually pull one off. "You need much more force behind the spell. You're attempting to control a mind - a very strong one in this case"

Feeling very foolish, the boy slumped against the tree. He _really _should have known Lord Voldemort wasn't the best wizard to start practicing with. The sun set quickly in this section of the world and it was already well on its way down. He wished he knew what Riddle was playing at by leading him on. He probably wouldn't be having this problem if the man hadn't kissed him in the first place.

The earth crunched underfoot as Riddle sauntered over to the fruit tree and stooped down. Harry was pouting, unconsciously it seemed, and it was a strange site for Riddle to behold when this was the only wizard that had openly challenged him and lived to tell of it.

He lifted Harry's chin, deciding now would be a nice time to kiss those lips. But the boy spoke just as he dipped his head forward to do so.

"Why do you keep doing this?"

Riddle paused briefly, noting the genuine tone in the boy's voice.

"Because it's fun to torment you."

Harry's brows furrowed angrily, not liking the idea of having his emotions toyed with. But he didn't verbalize his frustrations.

"Honestly, all of those years of being doted upon for surviving a curse. You could have had anyone of your little worshiping school mates. Now that you truly want something, crave it even, it's being denied." He leaned in again, "I'd be a fool to let this slide, Harry."

He kissed the boy, feeling him tense under him and try to pull back. Leaning against a tree, there really wasn't anywhere for him to move but it was well noted. He kissed him as darkness settled around them and the moon peeked from behind scattered grey puffs. When he began to pull back Harry grabbed his arm.

"Just do it already," he ground out in the snake language.

Riddle looked around and shrugged Harry's grip off.

"This is hardly the place or time," he answered, getting up and heading back for the slope of sunspell blossoms. Harry trudged after him. Riddle could tell he was angry from his gait, but that was to be expected. The boy was young, and a tad spoiled where he needs were concerned. He needed to learn that he wasn't guaranteed certain things.

At the top of the slope, the white and yellow blossoms had turned pale greens and blues under the moonlight.

"Pick from the blue ones but don't squeeze the petals too hard - they're extremely poisonous."

Harry worked silently, his mood having darkened with the sky. He was too angry to speak. He just wanted to get back and get away from Riddle before he screamed in frustration. He handed the older wizard the petals and waited for him to apparate them back to the mansion.

.. .. ..

A/N:

Chapters like these make me wonder just who the badguy is. It's 3:22am and i'm too tired to proofread it once more so..its up to you to tell me if theres something seriously wrong with it. Srry about the last chapter....and this one too i guess. lol. Thats 2 big fat 'NO's for Harry. Poor thing. Will he ever get it? Next chapter perhaps, perhaps not.

Teenaged boys are funny things, aren't they?

Thanks for the reviews...they're tremendously helpful.


	9. Octo

VIII

......................

"I don't know what he's playing at, Albus, but he doesn't know what he's dealing with."

"Be calm, Severus. I do think it's a bit early to draw conclusions."

Snape fixed the headmaster with a pointed stare.

"'Calm'? The Dark Lord has done something to him."

Albus returned the pointed stare.

"The boy is angry, and hurt."

There was a brief pause.

"Hurt? What I saw had nothing to do with hurt. The Dark Lord is making him--"

Snape stopped abruptly and slowly looked away from the expectant headmaster.

"Yes, Severus?"

His voice was soft and grave.

"I'm afraid it may be too late to say the Dark Lord won't hurt him."

"What makes you think that he has?"

"During the gathering..." the professor's voice faded for a moment as he searched for the least uncomfortable way to say what needed to be said. "I think the Dark Lord may be using the boy for...sexual gratification."

There was a long and empty silence.

The headmaster's expression didn't change, but for some reason it seemed the lines on his face deepened. He sat down slowly at his desk, all at once appearing to be all of his one-hundred plus years.

"You're certain?"

"There wasn't _physical_ proof, but my observations point in that direction."

Dumbledore nodded, blindly grabbing a lemon-drop from a jar on his desk. He failed to offer Snape one, and he wondered if the headmaster was simply too preoccupied or had finally acknowledged his dislike for them.

"I suggest we send a message to Lucius and prompt him about the plan. It seems we may need to end this sooner than we originally anticipated."

Severus nodded tersely, glad that the headmaster had required no further details on the matter.

.. .. ..

Riddle disappeared into the cellar with an order for Harry to bathe and eat before coming to his chambers. The boy was still carrying waves of anger as he climbed the stairs. He hated how Riddle confused him. To crave the touch of a man who had only previously given him reason to hate him, it was maddening. The man purposely incited him...and then pulled back the moment he responded to it. It was now obvious that Riddle was only toying with him.

He had to be!

It made perfect sense, Harry decided wryly. He shoved open the door to his room only taking note that the charms on his drapes had been removed. What he did to earn a view was beyond him at the present moment. The sun was just beginning its descent, tinting the room a calming blue. He glanced at the bathroom and the way to the shower but chose the bed instead. The bed protested his weight with a little squeak as he collapsed onto it.

For the first time since he was brought to Riddle's keeping and told help wasn't coming, he _truly _wished for the school... a friend... anything that could be considered 'familiar ground'. Snape had probably treated the headmaster to all sorts of conclusions to his behavior at the gathering. Maybe Dumbledore had given up planning altogether. It wasn't exactly as if Snape came by regularly to keep him posted...he had no way of knowing either way what Dumbledore was doing.

It didn't matter anyway. They failed him., and like he'd decided days ago, this was solely his situation to deal with. The main problem seemed to be the Dark Lord's intentions. Quite frankly - not being able to properly understand a person seriously rankled in Riddle's case. The Dark Lord _was_ messing with his feelings - that was for sure. But why? Harry hardly believed he did it simply because it was 'fun', as he put it. The man was just too complicated for that.

Perhaps Riddle wanted something from Harry's end. The previous night, he'd insinuated that if the boy wanted something from him, then he had to earn it or...

..._Do you expect me to simply act on _your_ lust?..._

.....make the older wizard want it as well.

Harry slowly sat up with the words repeating themselves inside his head. He suddenly felt enlightened.

It was a challenge, and Harry had gone about it the wrong way that day in the enchanted forest. Riddle wanted him to work for it indeed. Well, if that was the case, he could deliver. But he knew he still needed to talk to Riddle. Actually _talk_ and ask some prudent questions.

Riddle's aura began to move, leaving the cellar once more. Harry hurried to the shower, realizing the Dark Lord would be waiting on him soon. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about the way things were going, but he prepared himself to be observant.

.. .. ..

Harry severely lacked the appetite for the mountain of food awaiting him in the dining room. He picked at some fruit and bread but ate nothing substantial before heading up to Lord Voldemort's chambers. He had to feel his way there without Wodie whisking him away. Riddle's magic was rather easy to follow for it took no real effort at all to locate. Harry carried is wand out of habit and hoped it didn't seem like a defensive gesture. He probably couldn't do much with it even if he did need it for some reason - the charms on it were so strong that they made his palm itch.

__

Paranoid bastard....

__

"You really ought to curb your thoughts until you learn how to cloak them."

Harry started and ground his teeth at the unexpected invasion of his thoughts.

__

"You could quit reading them..."

"........Your cheek is astounding for someone in your situation."

The doors opened as he approached them. Riddle's back was turned as he fished through a book at the bookcase.

"Exactly what _is _my situation?"

Riddle finally set the book down and turned to face the young wizard.

"You are my charge. And as such, you are under my command." He watched Potter's expression change as he absorbed the words. "Set your wand on my desk and come here. We'll be working with wandless magic."

That peeked Harry's interest more than the mind control. With wandless magic, anything was possible. At Hogwarts, they stuck to mostly wand magic for fear of personal injury. It was safer to use a focal point or instrument to harness raw magical power. But wizards like the Dark Lord, it seemed, didn't need the safety net.

__

And me neither, I hope....

As Riddle seemed to ponder what they should try first, Harry glanced involuntarily at his wand abandoned there on the oak desk. It was funny how he never really saw the Dark Lord use his wand much these days. Things just sort of happened without him having to even wave a hand. Meanwhile, Harry had heard ghastly stories of attempts that left ordinary wizards with magical burns or in coma's. The ease at which wandless magic worked for Riddle was truly something to behold.

"Place your hand on my chest and attempt to shove me with your magic."

Harry stared dumbly for a full second before he moved to comply. His hand shook slightly as he rested it on the smooth cloth of Riddle's shirt. The warmth seeping through the cloth surprised him for some reason. The Dark Lord was indeed alive, but it still seemed strange for his heart to be beating and circulating warm blood like everybody else's.

Not really knowing how else to go about it, Harry chanted over and over in his head while hoping for it to work.

__

Blasthimblasthimblasthimblasthim......

"You're joking, right?"

Harry stopped abruptly.

"You've already forgotten what I tried to explain back in the forest. You've just got to use more force behind your spells, especially with wandless magic, which is solely dependent on your will."

Riddle collected both of Harry's hands in his and closed his eyes for a brief moment. Suddenly Potter began to grow warm. He could feel something rising inside of him...something nearly tangible. It was being pulled, no _dragged_ from a fathomless depth within him. It almost hurt. His breath quickened and a dull roar, like blood rushing through veins, filled his ears.

"Wha.....are you..."

"Your power Potter. It's time you take proper control over it."

Riddle let go of him and the strange sensations inside of him quieted. Panting, Harry seized Riddle with a bewildered expression.

"What....did you just do?"

"I brought a fraction of your power to the surface. When attempting to 'blast' a wizard off his feet, _that_ is what you hurl at him. Not hopes and pleas."

__

That had been only a fraction of his power? It felt like a hurricane was brewing inside of him and was on the brink of being released before Riddle pulled back. He knew he had powers within....but the magnitude...

And what of Riddle? Surely it was nothing he couldn't handle if here he was teaching the boy how to use it.

"Try again."

Harry took a few extra deep breaths and placed his hand on Riddle's chest again. He closed his eyes, for that seemed to help him concentrate, and started searching. All of that power had to come from somewhere and he was going to find it. Riddle was patient while the boy searched for the force necessary to complete the task. Harry's face was contorted with concentration, his brow twitching now and then. It wasn't long before Riddle could sense the stirrings of a rise of power. It budded as the boy tapped into it and grew as he nurtured it. His hand trembled slightly on Riddle's chest as he summoned his true magic.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and Riddle was hit with a swirl of tinted magic force. He stumbled but didn't fall. Judging from the force of the blast, had he been any other wizard he would have been knocked unconscious.

Needless to say, Harry was out of breath and a little tired from the exertion.

"Very impressive."

Harry paused mid-breath.

Did he just say he was impressed?

"That wasn't even all of your power. Now that I've seen what sort of power we're dealing with we'll soon be moving on to more taxing spells."

Riddle guided him through a few basics like summoning items or levitating them. It was tricky but he could tell he was getting the hang of it. The older wizard seemed energized by the activity. They worked on spell after spell, only pausing for questions and explanations.

It was invigorating for Harry, to say the least. His hands tingled from the usage of raw magical power...his breath came in tired pants...

...but he was learning.

Riddle didn't coddle, but he was patient and very clear with his instruction. He tended to make spells look easy when, in fact, they were rather difficult. For instance, he demonstrated a fire spell on a log in the hearth. All he did was aim his palm at the dry wood and a ball of flame leapt from it.

After his first attempt, Harry needed curing charms for his painfully blackened palm.

But, like the other spells, he got the hang of it. It was late by the time Riddle allowed a break. Harry was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep where he sat - against the armchair Riddle was presently occupying. The hearth had been effectively lit during their lesson and now the flamed danced erratically before them. In combination with the fingers in his hair, Harry's lids began to droop.

"I think with some more work you'll be ready to practice dueling."

He blinked the developing sleepiness away.

"With you, you mean."

"Unless you think one of the houselves would suffice..."

Harry shook his head a little, too tired to do much else. He'd dueled with the Dark Lord before and couldn't remember it being very pleasant. But these were completely different circumstances...it was almost as if Riddle was another person, which brought him to the 'talk' he'd planned on having.

"I should ask you something."

"......Go on."

"Sixteen years ago, what made you do what you did?"

So it was _that_ question. Only a matter of time before they got around to it really. Riddle stopped caressing the boy's hair and summoned a glass of Brandy.

"I had a goal to obtain. Certain...._obstacles_ had to be removed. It wasn't personal...initially."

He sipped from his glass, taking a moment for thought. The boy was quiet, obviously mulling over his next words.

"You never regret any of it?"

The boy's voice hadn't been sorrowful or wistful as the words indicated. It seemed he truly wanted to know.

"No, not regret. Things happen they way they're meant to. Perhaps I would like to have known then what I know now. But I don't suppose it would change anything. You'd still be Harry Potter....and I'd still be the Dark Lord."

"I might still have my parents."

"And some other child might not." Riddle turned to him, growing slightly agitated. "If you're feeling bitter, do realize it always could have been worse."

"You mean because of what your father did to you? Is that _really_ what started all of this?"

He couldn't see Riddle's face, but he felt the beginnings of the burning curse he used on him the first day. It died away before becoming painful. When Riddle spoke again, his voce was restrained.

"In a manner of speaking....perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps it all would have been the same no matter how my disgraceful father reacted. As I said, things happen the way they are meant to. If you planned on dwelling on it, _perhaps_ you should have chosen the other option instead of allowing me to instruct you."

Riddle had sort of eluded the question but his last words needed addressing.

"No. It wasn't my intention to start an argument. And no, I don't want the 'other option'. I just needed to know before....before anything happened."

"Well, then I will say this: I simply had a goal and methods that many did not agree with. Those who stood in the way had to be removed...they were warned. If they continued to oppose me, they bore the consequences."

Harry could understand that...from a semi-evil yet objective wizard's point of view, but he'd never agree. No one should have their parents taken away no matter how unfortunate Riddle's childhood had been. He stood up causing the older wizard to glance at him.

"So what changed your mind about me?"

"I was much younger then...and a bit reckless. Let's just say I've learned not to be wasteful."

Something in that sentence sent an odd feeling through the younger wizard. It was a simplified version of the truth, of that he was almost certain. But he wasn't sure what to make of that explanation.

Riddle watched the boy mull over his words, the most peculiar expressions flashing across his young face. His thoughts flew by in a blur of uncertainty and hesitancy - about what, Riddle didn't bother to guess. Instead, he caught the boy with a question of his own.

"So, what changed _your_ mind?"

Harry stared blankly for a mere second before his brows furrowed angrily.

"What makes you think that I have? Because I agreed to learn from you what I can't from anyone else?"

Riddle waved the notion away dismissively. As he stood, his brandy glass disappeared silently. He waved a hand at the fire to lower it's flame to a gentle flickering. Harry watched his movements cautiously, Riddle taking thoughtful note of his fear. Potter almost trusted him, but he was simply too confused by the past to do so. Understandably so, too. But Riddle had meant what he said about being reckless...he would have handled to situation more delicately had he a glimpse of the future.

Nevertheless, he stood there in the present with an anxious seventeen-year-old Harry demanding explanations. Riddle heaved a mental sigh.

"Don't....be silly. I did grow up in Slytherin House. Learning from your enemies is basic protocol for even the first years."

The older wizard turned away from the fire and calmly sauntered over to the boy. The boy barely flinched as Riddle raised his fingers to his overgrown locks. With the first stroke the boy's tense muscles began to relax.

__

So wonderfully responsive....

"You see, _this _would never have been a possibility had you not changed your mind in some way," he declared softly, indicating their contact. "I'll not ask you to explain it...I suppose that isn't necessary. But I do want you to acknowledge it." He lifted the boy's chin so that he might see his eyes...such vivid green eyes.

"We aren't where we once were."

Indeed they were not.

"If nothing else, I will wait until you are sure of this."

Riddle lingered a moment before beginning to pull back. This time, however, Harry tugged him back, his mouth landing where it was level - his neck. The boy left no time for Riddle to react, pulling him even closer and nibbling on the skin of his neck.

He refused to think of what he was doing lest he lose his only nerve. Mimicking Riddle's actions from the previous night, he pulled the older wizard so close that their pelvises were flush against one another. This way his mouth could reach the other wizard's chin without having to stand on tiptoe - Riddle was a full head taller than him, after all.

Harry rested a hand on the other's chest, his hand instantly remembering the warmth through the fabric. He thought perhaps he imagined Riddle's heart beating faster, because there was still no outward reaction to his ministrations. Mentally, he had been silent as well, imparting no clue as to how he was reacting to this. He kissed his way back around to the area beneath Riddle's chin, suckling lightly, licking...anything to get a reaction.

__

Merlin...this is wrong. I'm don't know what the hell I'm doing!

As a pit formed in his stomach, he slowly ceased and began to pull himself away. This wasn't going to be good.

__

"Giving up so soon? Pity..."

Riddle pulled them back together and claimed Harry's lips none too gently. The boy made a noise in his throat, likely one of surprise, but Riddle ignored it. Potter had obviously made up his mind and finally Riddle thought he might take advantage of the fact. He knew the boy's lips would soon be bruised. But then, the boy would need some reminders after the fact. He ran his fingertips down the boy's arms, allowing his nails to catch and snag the fabric.

__

"I do hope you're as ready as you think you are..."

Harry moaned as Riddle moved to his throat. His tongue was warm and slick on his skin...sensations that only heightened his sensitivity. Riddle grasped both sides of the boy's collar and pulled the front of Harry's shirt apart to expose his chest. Of course all he needed to do was wave a hand to have the boy completely naked. But there was just something stimulating about the urgent sound of buttons popping.

Long, slender fingers caressed Potter's chest slowly. He pressed his thumbs into his nipples and then dragged them down the pink nubs. Harry arched into him sharply with a soft inhalation. It hurt and there would probably be red streaks there for a while, but it was so exquisite. Riddle's hands were firm and hot on his skin, caressing and grabbing erratically. He whispered words now and then - mental speech, Parseltoungue...anything, but Harry could honestly remember naught of it.

Somehow Harry could feel the oak desk pressing into his back, which was odd because he couldn't recall consciously moving from the fireplace. Riddle urged his body back onto the polished surface and his wand rolled off onto the carpet with a thud.. Bearing over him, the older wizard could feel the hardness pressing up from Harry's trousers. The boy's eyes opened searchingly as he grasped for Riddle's collar. The latter, however, pulled back enough to be out of his reach. While this was indeed about pleasure...it was also about discipline.

Red eyes flashing a quick warning, the Dark Lord moved around to the side of the desk so that he might stand over Potter as a surgeon would his patient. Catching the hint, the younger wizard tried his best to be calm and still, though the blood rushed through his body to his groin. Riddle covered a pert nipple with his mouth and reached down to stroke the bulge in Harry's pants. Harry bucked into it involuntarily and had to fight the urge to do it again when Riddle paused.

When he was sure the boy could control himself he continued, sucking hard on the sensitized nub of flesh. The boy's breathing came in short gasps as he strained to remain still. He was doing rather well considering how much he was obviously aching for the contact.

Moving to the other nipple he began to unfasten the boy's pants...slowly, of course. He reached in until he came in contact with the bothersome flesh that was his erection. Harry gasped the moment his hand brushed against it and nearly bucked off the desk when his hand closed around it.

Riddle paused again to let the boy calm down a little. His forehead was beginning to dampen with his efforts to lie still. The effect his touch had on the boy was truly inspiring. He knew he'd enjoy making the boy cry out for him, as ironic as it would be. Harry's breathing slowed and his lids fluttered open over unfocused pupils. He was so painfully hard and at that point, one more touch might very well send him over the edge. And the sad thing was, the other wizard didn't seem to be hard at all yet. The look he sent the Dark Lord was truly one of concern.

__

"I'm going to come soon..."

"Yes...?"

"...But...you--"

Stroke.

__

"I...?"

"You...haven't...even--"

Stroke.

Harry moaned loudly, his back arching off the desk. Riddle continued to bring him off until he was spent. Meanwhile, Harry lay motionless, save for the deep rise and fall of his chest.

"Harry?"

No answer.

__

"Harry?"

No answer.

With a quick roll of the eyes, Riddle took one of Potter's limp hands and they disappeared with a 'pop'.

.. .. .. ..

A.N:

=)

They aren't fin quite yet...but the chapter was getting too long.....

I tried to keep everyone's reviews in mind when writing this..tho i promised myself not to let everyone tug me in different directions with this fic...lol

Srry...if you aren't happy with this chapter..i sorta tried it different ways but this was the best i could come up with. You even got a glimpse of the 'good' side! (for SheWolfe, snicker snicker)

Miao, dear, of course your review wasn't mean..lol! It was something i had been warring with since i imagined the outcome of the fic and your review made me think now was as good a time as any to start clearing that up. See how helpful comments can be?

About the previous chapter....i meant the apparition lesson _and_ the wand to be sorta b-day gifts...but i don't suppose it came off that way..teehee.

I'm seriously trying to keep the ball rolling but i may just have a few too many things going on. Keep the reviews/comments coming (hehe) and i'll keep working. Thnx again!


	10. Novem

IX

.. .. .. .. .. .

__

S,

I share your eagerness to proceed, however, the only opportunity for advancement is during the next gathering. If the draught is as essential to his well being as you claim, it won't be long before we can indeed end this.

L

Albus slowly lowered the parchment.

"It seems we must wait. This isn't good, Albus."

"We'll think of something, Severus. Harry does well by himself...I don't believe the worse has happened--"

Snape looked doubtful.

"--but yes, unfortunately, we must wait."

"If word gets out about what happened, the entire Wizarding world will fall to panic."

"We've a month till the start of term, Severus. I do believe we'll have him back before then."

Snape was again doubtful, but he kept his negative thoughts to himself. He contemplated pointing out that it could be weeks, even months until the next gathering, but he could see the effects the situation was already having on the headmaster. Instead, he brought up another detail.

"He thinks we've...abandoned him."

Albus didn't need the potions master to clarify who he was speaking of. He turned away.

"We can not jeopardize this..."

"You _don't_ need you to remind me, Albus. I'm just making sure you're aware that Potter isn't as infallible as you seem to think he is. There's no way for him to know what we're doing. There's no one to stop him from throwing in the towel, if he isn't already."

"Then someone will have to make contact. When the time is right you'll find a way to speak with him."

"...You're joking."

"A week should be sufficient."

Snape digested the new plan slack-jawed before deciding that the headmaster was indeed serious....and insane. "I'll...see what I can do," he replied slowly.

Albus merely nodded and watched Severus leave his office.

__

Dear boy, please forgive me.

.. .. .. ..

Harry woke with a jolt, instantly confused with his surroundings. He didn't remember a bed being in Riddle's study.

He sat up, squinting in the dim lighting. His limbs felt like jelly, his shirt hung off of his shoulders...Riddle was nowhere to be found.

__

Maybe he's angry that I...I...

...passed out? Fainted? Whatever it was, he hadn't meant to do it and hoped Riddle wasn't taking it personally.

Harry started to get off the bed he'd been laying in but the folded parchment waiting beside him drew his attention. There was an 'H' on the front and a message written in brown ink.

__

--Wait there and do try not to fall asleep again.

Tom--

It was strange to see his writing again. After his second year at school with the whole diary fiasco, he could still remember the neat little script magically appearing on the blank pages. And here it was again, coming from the real Voldemort....or should he say 'Tom'?

He sat back on the bed - he assumed it was Riddle's - and took in the room. It was large, much larger than the one he'd been given, and a little drafty. The fire was out in the hearth and he only light came from an arrangement of candles hovering where a chandelier might commonly fit.

The bedroom...he was in Riddle's bedroom.

His only conclusion was that after he'd 'fallen asleep' Riddle must have brought him there so that when he woke up they could...do whatever it was Riddle had in mind.

A pit formed in Harry's stomach. Merlin, he couldn't do THAT with he? He had next to no experience as far as sex went. And he doubted the older wizard would let him get away with just lying there _this _time. Riddle seemed so experienced. Harry's skin still tingled where the tips of those long elegant fingers glided up and down. It was like he knew just where to pinch and where to caress.

Oh, Riddle was in for a grand disappointment if he had high expectations

Harry pulled his knees up to his chin and contemplated making a run for it. But then, he realized how pathetic that would be, not that he could leave the mansion anyway. He sat there imagining Riddle's reaction to his incompetence until the doors opened and said Dark Lord came in. His crimson eyes fell on the boy and the corner of his mouth twitched in an almost-smirk.

"I do hope you don't plan on making a habit of blacking out like that," he claimed wryly.

Harry shook his head.

"Didn't do it on purpose."

__

On the contrary, he thought smugly. For Potter to think his touch was that mind blowing was certainly a good sign. Harry unfolded himself as Riddle came towards him and made to stand up. Riddle arrested the movement by placing a hand against his shoulder.

Harry was uncertain as he scooted back enough to let his legs dangle. Riddle's silence worried him about as much as the hand lingering there on his left shoulder. He really _hated_ not knowing what do.

"What happened?" he inquired in Parseltongue.

Harry's brows furrowed.

"Huh?"

Potter winced at how dumb he sounded to himself. Riddle raised a neat black brow.

"I asked you what happened," he said pointedly.

"Yes...I know. I mean, what are you talking about?"

"You're fidgety. And you weren't fidgeting back in my study, if I may recall."

"I'm....not fidgeting," he denied after a moment's pause.

However, to prove his point, Riddle slid his hand around the boy's neck. He felt the vibration of Potter's twitch under his fingers and 'hmmed' deep in his throat. It seemed Potter realized it as well.

So the boy _had_ been hasty back in the study. And after having a moment to actually think about their actions, his little bold streak was dwindling.

Harry's sudden unease was unfortunate but nothing Riddle couldn't mend. They had come this far, after all, in such a short time.

The older wizard sat down beside the boy and studied his profile. His hair was, of course, a mess...nothing profound in that observation. His posture was a little stiff, jaw clenched...he never had been comfortable under scrutiny.

"You might as well just tell me you're nervous."

Potter turned to him instantly, a denial tumbling from his lips defiantly.

"I'm not. Just do it."

Riddle's expression was one of genuine amusement. It made Harry more than a little perturbed to be found so funny.

"Always the martyr. Do you even know what 'it' entails?"

The Griffyndor colored noticeably and turned away mumbling.

"What was that?"

"I said I have an idea...somewhat." Which he did, though he never cared to go further then simple 'fooling around' in the past.

"An idea? You mean you were willing to rush into something without even knowing what to expect?"

Harry was reminded of the gathering and how Riddle had reacted to his pissing Snape off.

__

...does leave one wondering whether or not you ever consider the consequences.

"I..."

"Never mind." He supposed the best plan of action in their case would be to take it slow, and it would be worth it in the end if the boy could trust him.

He brushed Harry's cheek with his thumb enjoying the tantalizing smoothness. A shiver rippled through the boy and he looked up at the older wizard.

Until that moment, it never occurred to Harry that red eyes could be so damned _hot. _They were full of desire and intrigue. His lids fluttered shut as his mouth was met by a pair of slightly parted lips. It was indeed strange to be kissed by someone he grew up hating...but some part of himself had trouble identifying Lord Voldemort and this Tom Riddle as exactly the same person. This wizard intrigued him and aroused him in mysterious ways, just as he was doing now.

Harry could feel Riddle drawing slow circles on the nape of his neck with his fingertips. Harry reached blindly for Riddle's chest, hesitating when his palm met bare skin. Riddle had certainly been wearing a shirt moments ago...

Catching wind of the boy's thoughts, Riddle resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. Instead he willed the boy's shirt away as well and guided him onto his back. Harry sucked in a breath when his bare back touched the bed clothes.

__

"One would think you'd notice a spell being cast on you...."

For a moment Harry opened his eyes, emerald gems flashing hotly in response to the jibe. It sent a shiver down Riddle's spine.

__

"......and for a second I almost cared to know how you did that..."

Riddle began kissing his way around the boy's jaw, smirking into the skin. And so the boldness had officially resurfaced.

__

"Well, I'm glad you lost interest...would take me all evening to show you how."

Without thinking Harry blindly pinched a nipple. Riddle's eyes widened in surprise, before he recovered to bite the crook of Harry's neck - not hard, but firm enough for the boy to yelp.

__

"Consider yourself warned," you feverish imp.

"...Against what?"

While digesting the experience of being spoken to with an emotion other than fear or complete hatred, Riddle's previous concerns that the boy was uneasy dissipated. The little imp had only needed warming up. Harry barely flinched as he felt the beginnings of the burning curse.

__

"A favorite of yours then?"

"Hmm...one of them."

"Well....you use it often enough."

"Apparently not _nearly_ often enough. But there are others...._Crucio._"

The curse was breathed out in a exhaled whisper. And whether it was the way he said it or simply the Dark Lord's intention, the spell only sent a dull pain . Whatever the case, Harry had _never_ heard an unforgivable cast so sensually. He felt himself growing hard again rapidly.

The pain originated where Riddle's hands contacted his skin and spread in pulses. The curse traveled with Riddle's fingers, skirting around his torso barely even touching the skin in some instances.

Harry wasn't exactly sure when Riddle had removed the rest of his clothing but he remembered hissing lightly through his teeth when long slender fingers gripped his inner thighs. The dull pain and proximity to his erection had him biting his bottom lip.

__

"Don't try to hold it in...I know what this is doing to you."

Harry didn't reply, just concentrated on breathing. He had to keep from coming so soon this time - the fact that Riddle wasn't even hard before he came the last time was pathetic.

__

Not to mention I passed out....

And from the feel of whatever Riddle was doing with his tongue, he just might be fainting again.

Riddle pulled himself up over Harry completely and reached for the boy's swollen member. The pain curse was still in affect, and rose slightly in degree. As Riddle's fingers slowly found the sensitive flesh of his cock a moan escaped his lips.

__

"That's it, Harry..."

The boy's mind was a complete mess of feelings - pain...pleasure...nerves...excitement...... It seemed pain was more of a turn on for Harry than the younger wizard was willing to admit. He arched up into Riddle, seeking more of everything...the caressing...the pain.

Riddle pressed him down with his own body and grasped his wrists above his head.

"Not so fast, boy. I want to hear you."

What on earth was Riddle playing at? Harry was painfully hard, and from what he could feel...Riddle was in similar condition. When Harry opened his eyes to see Riddle, they were hazy with arousal. The Dark Lord's eyes were alive with desire and tended to catch flickers of candlelight. Somehow, they made Harry feel drunk.

Harry ground his hips up in frustration, earning himself a heavier dose of the pain curse. He grunted, squirming beneath the older wizard.

__

"Do something....I can't take this...."

"Then don't_ hold back."_

Riddle ground his hips against the boy, their erections pressed together heatedly. Harry sucked in a sharp breath and moved with him...

...and the ability of forming coherent thoughts left him entirely.

He was distantly aware of someone crying out...someone else's voice in his mind saying all sorts of things that probably would not have been erotic in any other circumstance. He could no longer distinguish between the pain of the curse and the pleasure he was getting from the body on top of him. It was all one big delectable and intoxicating mess of feeling that drove him over the edge far too soon.

Riddle was still moving rhythmically, as if in no rush for release. His mouth lazily played in the crook of the boy's neck, licking slightly feverish salty skin. Harry had obviously come a few seconds ago, and lay panting as Riddle found his own release. The name 'Tom' fell from his lips repeatedly in those panted breaths. The boy was clearly drained and out of it, though the sound of his given name on Harry's lips irked the Dark Lord.

He tossed the thought aside and whispered a cleaning spell for their soiled bodies. He rolled onto his back and eyed the boy's lithe form beside him. His eyes were closed but, it seemed he hadn't lost consciousness this time.

__

Miracle of miracles...

He waited for Harry's breathing to return to normal and the pale little torso to stop heaving so dramatically. He had to admit, it was taking the boy considerably more time than it had taken himself...and _he_ had been doing most of the work.

It was no matter. He supposed the younger wizard would adjust. But he was still anxious, though reluctant to admit it, to know how Harry was going to take the turn of events. That is...when the post-superior-orgasm cloud settled enough for concrete thought.

The Griffyndor in question slowly turned onto his side, eyes amazingly clear for his tired state. He watched Riddle right back as if considering the situation at hand rather astutely. Riddle wondered whether he had ever been fixed with an expression of that sort before. The closest he could truly recall came from, of course, the headmaster many years ago.

Indeed, the cloud had begun to settle.

"That was....." the boy began, searching for the proper description, "brilliant." There was a brief pause. "Should I consider it a first lesson?"

Riddle thought back to the library when he promised the boy 'instruction' of a kind in that area. Well, he concluded, sex could be as useful as any non-wand magic given the proper situation.

"More.....a placement exam."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"You were testing me?"

He hadn't been, not exactly. But it was entertaining to see how offended the boy would get.

"One might say that.."

Brows still reasonably furrowed, Harry turned onto his other side so that his back was facing the older wizard. Riddle eyed the systematic bumps of his spine poking out along his pale back. Wasn't that boy eating enough? Come to think of it, the boy was on the thin side when he'd been brought to the mansion.

"Did you eat something before coming up here?"

".......I wasn't really hungry," came the muffled reply.

"The next time you skip a preordained meal I'll place an engorgement charm on you . I'll not have a charge of mine wandering around the mansion like a specter."

The words lacked the proper bite to be coming from the Dark Lord. In fact, given enough thought, they might be mistaken for conc--

"Now turn around. I believe we were having a discussion."

Perhaps not.

It felt a little strange for Riddle to keep such authority in his voice while they were laying in bed naked. But he acquiesced, nonetheless.

"I meant what I said about considering the consequences. I trust that this means you've done just that and don't plan on changing your colors should the irony of the situation finally reach you."

Harry didn't meet his gaze.

__

"Look. At. Me."

Bright green eyes drifted up enough to mix with equally bright red ones. Riddle held his stare in all seriousness.

"If at anytime you decide to fancy yourself a victim, it'll be because of _nothing_ that happens in this room. Is that clear?"

"Yes," he answered when the meaning of the words had been properly digested. This was his choice, his doing, and Riddle was refusing to take responsibility for it if Potter had a change of heart.

Decidedly satisfied with his reply, Riddle slid off the bed, effectively flashing Harry with a view of his naked rear. A robe materialized onto his bare skin.

"I'll allow you to rest here for tonight. Be ready to work in the morning."

The sudden shift to a business-like manner left Harry feeling off center once more. "Yes,si--I will," he stuttered.

And Riddle disappeared into his adjoining study.

.. .. ..

About a week had passed and most of it had been spent studying and practicing spells. Riddle had ventured to the forest again for ingredients and other things, allowing Harry to accompany him. The time outside of the mansion was...nice, Harry decided. There were many things of interest in the enchanted woods they scouted, and Potter had surprisingly few threats to concern himself with so long as one of the world's most powerful wizards was with him - even if it was Lord Voldemort.

Riddle sat with him more frequently at meal times, and Harry began to mind the occasional scrutiny less and less. Harry devoured his food and Riddle lectured. It was a surprisingly balanced system they'd fallen into, and had brought the boy surprisingly far in his studies. So far, in fact, that Riddle thought they might begin dueling.

They decided on the drafty ballroom used for Death Eater gatherings for its high ceilings and lack of obstructions. Harry hadn't been in the room since the night of the gathering and observed it, for once, without the gaggle of hooded figures gathered in the center.

They assumed positions opposite one another in the center.

"You already know how to duel with your wand. And while the wand does make things simpler in a duel, it isn't always a luxury your opponent is willing to grant you." He waved a hand and Potter's wand flew from his fingers, clattering to a halt some yards away. "Let just say you wand has been taken away...what do you do?"

"Distract you and call it back?"

The wand disappeared with a crackle and white smoke.

"You can't call it back."

Harry thought for a moment, suddenly uneasy without his wand in sight.

"Then I...try to disarm you as well...you know, even things up a bit."

"Show me."

Riddle stood calmly, showing no outward preparation for an attack. He did, however, hold his wand in his left hand, as if expecting not to use it.

Harry's empty wand hand clenched and unclenched as he began to concentrate on a wandless spell that would take away Riddle's wand. The older wizard instantly knew the spell wouldn't be successful the first time. Harry had a persistent habit of tensing up before using his raw magic, which proved to be more of an inhibiting factor. But he didn't correct him. Perhaps the boy would identify his own mistake.

Harry shouted a spell and a blue spark danced from his palm and died with a crackle. Riddle still held his wand, as he predicted, and Harry's mouth fell into a baffled frown.

That _was_ the right spell...he was certain of it.

He tried a different one - something to simply blast the polished wood from Riddle's long fingers. It had about as much success as the previous spell.

" Enough. Stop. You aren't relaxing."

Harry's protest died with the knowing look Riddle was giving him. It was true; he wasn't relaxing because he didn't feel settled. He hated being closely observed or evaluated in any way. The fact that Riddle stood there, in full black robes, wand in hand, watching every move....

He was still not a completely comforting figure for Harry. Even with their arrangement, and apparent symbiosis, he couldn't just ignore his discomfort...except when he was lying in Riddle's bed. Then everything seemed so clear and foggy all at the same time.

"...or focusing, for that matter."

Harry's thoughts snapped back to the task at hand. Riddle had crossed his arms casually, waiting for him to collect himself.

"You really ought to learn to relax _and_ focus without me directing your attention to it. All it takes is for your attention to wander for a split second. The right wizard could have you simmering in a puddle before you realized what was happening."

"Well you aren't the most calming presence," he muttered wryly.

"Oh? We've crossed paths more than a few times. You should be quite used to me by now."

How they had 'crossed paths', as he had put it, so many times and both remained alive was a mystery to Harry. By all accounts _one_ of them should be dead by now.

"I don't know about 'used to', but I'll get over the jitters soon enough." Harry raised his palm, a sign that he was ready to try again. Riddle uncrossed his arms and inclined his head.

The magic built up this time and Potter held it at the ready until he was sure of his aim. When he released the spell, it flew as a blue disk...knocking Riddle's wand into a far corner.

"Well done. But just so that you're aware, that spell is easily blockable. And unless you're quick enough, it will be anticipated." Riddle flexed his fingers as if in preparation, and suddenly Harry's wand was back in his hand. "You might try a succession of spells..."

Without warning the Dark Lord hurled a bright green ball of magic at Harry, followed by a blue disk similar to the one Harry had used. The boy blanched at the sight of the first and was thrown horribly off his feet. The second spell sent his wand flying off the the side with a clatter.

The boy lay stunned and coughing the wind back into his lungs. It was a minute or two before he could stand up again.

"What....was _that_?"

"Just a shove. I supposed its strength depends on the wizard..."

Was that so? And just what the hell was Riddle grinning about? The older wizard watched Harry catch his breath in subtle amusement. The boy's face had been priceless, though it probably was low of him to use a spell resembling the killing curse.

Potter gave no warning before sending a few of the spells he'd acquired in practice. Quite pleased with Harry's renewed vigor, Riddle humored him for a while...only blocking and dodging. It was a short while before the boy showed signs of tiring. Riddle held up a hand, freezing the boy's next movement.

"That'll do for now. Your stamina needs to grow before we can try extended battles." He dropped his arm. "You might want to learn your limits; it wouldn't do to have a faint in the middle of a duel..." Though, Riddle had to admit the boy was incredibly strong for is age. Casting _one_ spell without the aid of a wand would have many wizards sprawled unconscious.

He could tell Harry wasn't satisfied with stopping at the moment, but the younger wizard nodded rationally. He was indeed getting tired.

"Clean up and come to dinner. I have another book for you." And he disappeared through the ballroom doors, likely to the cellar where he spent the majority of his time these days. Harry gathered his wand and headed up to his room, his feet dragging slightly in his exhaustion.

... ... ...

A/N:

For those of you who are completely sure of what's happening....you can skip this. But i think some might need a little explanation of events...i know i'm not always too clear with the characters' motives and all that. But believe me when i say i _am_ trying!

Ok.....As you've probably already guessed, Riddle doesn't hate the boy. At the not-so-subtle hinting of Salazar, through the portrait, Riddle has realized the potential Harry has for working _with_ him instead. After all, their wands don't seem to wanna clash. Harry feels the change, though he still has the original image of the Dark Lord hanging over him sometimes. Riddle has clearly...._changed_...or grown, as he explains in the previous chapter and doesn't do things quite like he used to. i.e: killing first and asking questions later.

Now, Harry is quite attracted to Riddle...in a lusty sort of way. And Riddle doesn't want to act on it unless Harry is completely sure...because trust is important in his little scheme of unification. So he teases and frustrates Harry some - just getting him all worked up, until well...he ends the game and they get serious.

As for the good side and all that.....

Snape knows about the potion...so now Albus knows. Their plan is to wreck it so that Riddle weakens and then they can make a move. They employ Lucius knowing he already wants Voldie gone so he can take his place....though Lucius isn't completely sure why Snape wants Voldie dead. He thinks he has ambitions of his own which he'll worry about later.

Albus doesn't mean to leave Harry hanging. He didn't intend for him to get captured but now that he is, he can't just tell him what they're planning to do. I mean, what if he spills it? So they keep him in the dark...praying the boy doesn't give in and quit hoping. Though, to me it looks like he's quite settled where he is. And the rest...well...it should be easier to understand i hope. Srry about the wait....Many things to consider while writing this...though i have myself largely to blame for that.

Next chapter already in the works!


	11. Decem

X

... ... ... ...

Harry gasped in horror, his breath quickening as the tips of his fingers began to disappear...painfully.

He jumped off the windowsill, allowing the spell book to fall to the floor with a thud. This certainly was not a good sign.

He raced out of the room clutching his gradually vanishing hand as if that would keep it on his body where it belonged. Riddle's aura was off somewhere in the mansion, and Harry ran for it as if his life depended on it.

He wasn't surprised when he ended up before entryway to the cellar.

"T...Tom?"

There was no answer, though Harry suspected he might be out of hearing range. He didn't feel confident about using the man's given name. But after the other evening, there wasn't too much else to call him at the moment.

__

"Tom...are you down there? I need help..."

The stud in his ear began to sting. There was a very short pause before the answer drifted across his thoughts.

__

"With what? I'm quite busy."

"...Um...I think you should see this...quickly."

There was a much longer pause, as if he was deliberating over his response. Then a waft of air blew past him and the presence of the wards vanished with a sucking noise. He stared down the dark, but now accessible hallway.

__

"If you're waiting for an invitation...that was it. Now be quick...I only have a moment."

Grimacing at Riddle's snippy tone he hurried down the hall and through the door at the end. The Dark Lord wasn't going to be too pleased...but so long as he could fix whatever the hell he had done to himself, Harry was willing to endure it.

He followed a set of circular, stone steps down to another hall with an open door through which golden light emanated. It was a lab of sorts that reminded Harry horribly of his potions class at Hogwarts. Except, there were significantly less lab benches, and an impatient Tom Riddle wiping his hands briskly on a tattered towel.

"So what is it that--" Riddle paused as Harry helplessly held up his vanishing appendage, now non-existent up to his forearm. He observed the boy's bizarre condition blankly before realization caused him to sigh irritably.

"I specifically told you to do the first two lessons, did I not?"

"I...ack..." His arm was now gone to the elbow, and becoming more painful. He was growing frantic, but Riddle hadn't made a move to fix it yet. "It was an accident, sort of. I just turned to the back...to look up something. Then there was this spell..."

"But I _did_ tell you. And now you've discovered why." He approached the boy swiftly, taking the arm in question into his grip. Harry grunted but didn't pull away.

"I could send you back upstairs to fix it on your own. Would probably take you ages... Of course, then you'd be properly reminded of the situation every time you needed your arm back..."

There was the indescribable sensation of his arm returning to the flesh just before Riddle released his grip and turned back to his work. Harry raised his arm to confirm that his precious right arm was indeed whole again.

"Consider yourself fortunate that I prefer you with _all_ of your appendages in tact."

He busied himself with some sort of magical strainer, pouring some steamy grey concoction into the device. The liquid that collected at the bottom was crystal clear.

Harry supposed that meant he should go back now, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"This...the potion?"

Riddle ignored him until he was finished pouring.

"It will be. It'll do more harm than good at this stage."

Taking his response as welcoming sign, Harry took a few tentative steps into the lab proper.

"Touch one thing and I'll remove _both_ of your arms," Riddle called over his shoulder.

Hidden behind Riddle's back, Harry rolled his eyes. Though, he didn't doubt for a moment that the older wizard was serious. He took a good look around now, making sure not to bump or upset anything on the lab benches.

There were jars of odd and likely rare items lining shelves on the right. Different sized cauldrons and dozens of tools took up a large amount of shelving on the left wall. And _everywhere_ there were books. Big, small, mostly old ones were propped against jars, stacked on table corners, opened wide on lab benches...An almost-empty glass of wine topped a short stack near the main work area.

There was an open one nearby on a stool and Harry carefully made his way over to it, disappointed to find it written in German. He glanced over at Riddle who was busy filling two jars with the clear mixture, and wondered if he actually understood the language or used translation charms.

The place looked perhaps the most lived-in of all the rooms Harry had seen - even more so than the bedroom. One could almost feel Riddle imprinted there. Though, one would expect more 'evil-oriented' paraphernalia: half-dead muggle bodies, mutilated and drowning in their own blood....

But Riddle wasn't much into hating muggles these days, was he? He didn't seem particularly interested in them back in the Chamber of Secrets. The closest thing to a dead body could be found on the back wall, which was occupied by all sorts of colorful samples - mostly whole dried creatures and previously brewed potions. All in all, it seemed Professor Snape had competition as a collector of weirdness.

Another hallway, only visible from the back of the lab drew his attention. It was poorly lit, but there was clearly something on the wall in there...a portrait perhaps. There might have been a face but he needed to get closer. Riddle was still busy with the jars, packing them into a dusty crate. Harry headed into the hall.

"I do believe it's time you continued your studying."

Startled, Harry stopped and found Riddle watching him through slightly narrowed eyes, crate covered and abandoned on the lab bench. When he glanced back at the portrait, it was completely black.

"Yeah. I'll just be--"

They were interrupted by a 'pop' and Wodie stood in the middle of the lab.

"A letter for master in his study," he announced with downcast eyes.

Riddle looked reluctant to leave, but nodded. Wodie was gone in an instant. Harry headed swiftly for the exit, aware of the sound of an apparition as he climbed the stone steps.

.. .. .. .. ..

The letter was from Severus - interesting. He 'humbly requested' a moment to speak with the Dark Lord - even more interesting. After only a moment's consideration, Riddle pulled on the Dark Mark connecting Severus to himself. The potions master needed only to apparate and he'd end up on the estate.

It would be a short while before he arrived. Riddle conjured up a glass of scotch and observed the landscape from a window. He could sense Harry returning to the library, to finish his lessons if he was wise. The Dark Lord made a mental note to check up on his progress later.

He remembered the cellar and just where Harry had been headed before he'd stopped him. No one knew about the portrait. Riddle preferred it that way, even if there was no real danger of anything happening to it. It just seemed like something better kept to himself.

Though, Riddle did wonder what the Father of Slytherin would have to say to the way things were going between himself and Potter.

There was a soft 'poof' behind him and then Wodie awaited.

"Severus Snape to see Master."

"Thank you, Wodie."

The man in question was let in and he proceeded to perform the whole kneel and crawl bit before Riddle gave him air to speak.

"I believe you wished for me to inform you if the headmaster planned on making a move, my lord."

Severus was a bit of a special case as far as Death Eaters went. He was recruited rather young, sixteen, if he remembered correctly, though that wasn't what made him different. His desire hadn't been evil or anything to do with hating muggles; he simply yearned for free use of all of his magical abilities. He wanted the whole of wizardry, just as Riddle himself had at that age.

It had been easy to turn him to what Riddle felt was the true cause of Slytherin, at the time anyway. Severus was an extremely intelligent man, though a bit stiff with his creativity. He followed knowledge, and when it seemed he had learned all that he could in his situation, his focus began to dwindle.

Some rumored treachery.

Riddle was not blind, but then he knew every situation had its time. If treachery was indeed at hand, then the traitor's time would come. It was rather simple really.

For now, he was content to stare down at the black-robed Severus, who still reminded him of the strangely calm sixteen-year-old boy from over two decades ago. He awaited an answer from his lord, staring straight ahead and not at the floor as most in his service had a tendency to do.

"Oh? I did, didn't I. Almost forgotten about the dear old headmaster."

It was sarcasm, of course. Snape knew Riddle was aware of the headmaster at all times.

"And what is it he wants?"

"To my understanding, he is beginning to worry. He wishes to trace the boy."

Now this was not _completely_ unexpected. But Riddle schooled his features, just as the potion's master was schooling his own.

"Using what method?"

"_Sangui semitor_."

Riddle nearly laughed.

"A _blood_ spell? As in 'dark' magic?" He stared disbelieving at the other wizard. Snape put up his gravest honest facade. "Worried indeed."

Riddle paced before the window with his scotch. This was certainly pressing information, if true. If Albus could perform the _Sangui semitor_ , he could both locate the mansion, and take the boy.

"Are you certain, Severus? You know my tolerance for false information."

Snape didn't even hesitate.

"Yes, my Lord. I waited for my next opportunity to tell you. And, I had time to concoct a brew..."

Riddle paused expectantly.

"Albus saved a bit of Potter's blood from the hospital wing one day after suffering an injury. He thought he might need it some day, if a situation such as this occurred." Snape forced a bit of a sideways smirk. "And so did I, for the same reason." He pulled out a small vile of brownish liquid and held it up for Lord Voldemort to see. The latter eyed it but made no move to accept it.

"And that is?"

"The anti-serum. If the boy were to drink this before the spell was performed, his connection to the sample Dumbledore has would be severed. It would be unable to work..."

The words hung in the air as Riddle eyed him silently.

... ... ... ...

Harry finished his interrupted lessons, this time without venturing to the back of the book. He would need help with the current lesson: wandless transfiguration - it seemed damn near impossible. He managed to make a candleholder loose its definite shape, but it wouldn't become the intended carving knife.

He closed the book, silently admitting to his defeat until Riddle could help him with it. It was strange to be studying these things _with_ Voldemort when all of his previous studies had been undertaken with the intention of using them to fight the Dark Lord. But he couldn't help but notice that he was learning a lot more in his present situation than he had been at Hogwarts.

Potter curled up at the window seat, gazing out at the landscape from his second-story vantage point. He knew somewhere out there his 'friends' were probably wondering exactly what had befallen him since he was taken away. What had Dumbledore told them? He couldn't imagine Ron or Hermione settling for one of the headmaster's scant explanations.

The boy realized how silly his anger at his friends had been. After all, they were quite powerless to do anything, and were likely suffering in their concern for him. It was a shame Ron wasn't around for a game of Wizard's Chess. Riddle probably wouldn't be up for one, if he even owned a set.

Speaking of which, Riddle had company, it seemed. The aura was familiar but pretty vague from however far off they were in the mansion. Well, whoever it was, they likely had something to do with the message that had interrupted them in the basement...though in the nick of time. Harry was almost sure he'd seen a portrait down there, but it was too dark, and it must have vanished or something.

Who would Lord Voldemort keep a portrait of, locked in his cellar, no less! Perhaps there was more cause for the wards than simply the delicate brewing. Whoever was in the portrait, Riddle didn't want him, or likely anyone else to find out about them. It was _almost_ worth busting in to find out....almost, but not quite.

Riddle's anger would be severe if he found out, regardless of that one night in his bed. He hadn't touched Harry quite the same since then...just casual touches during instruction, really. But even those made Harry hard in an instant.

Suddenly, his trousers began to feel more restrictive. If it weren't for the approaching auras of Riddle and his guest, he might have done something about it.

Riddle opened the door, flanked by Professor Snape, and beckoned him with a finger. Knowing better than to dawdle, especially with 'company' present, Harry came over, kneeling expectantly. He felt cool fingers on his forehead, but they were not Riddle's. They lacked the smooth, suggestiveness that Riddle managed in every situation. Instead, they were quick and purposeful, first feeling his forehead, then under his jaw. His eyelids were pried open further and Snape looked into them as one might do to check an unconscious victim. Then he looked in Harry's mouth, his left thumb holding the inside of his cheek a bit roughly. When he pulled back, there was a tiny, folded piece of paper where his thumb had been. Harry closed his mouth quickly.

"He is in good enough health for the serum if you'd like me to administer it now, my lord."

Riddle nodded and watched the exchange of the vile to Potter's slightly shaky hand.

"Drink it, boy."

And after swirling the contents once in the vile, Harry tossed it back, swallowing it quickly. He could feel both men staring hard at him, as if expecting something magnificent to happen, and Harry began to fear this potion wasn't a good thing. His fears doubled when his veins seem to have ignited. It felt as if every blood cell inside him had been turned to acid.

He screamed, of course. And then he fainted into a heaving heap on the carpet.

The young wizard came to in his own bed lying on top of the sheets. He felt nothing of the previous pain in his body, fortunately. But it left him rightly wondering what the hell he'd been given, and why. He was off the bed in an instant, regretting it as he fought a wave of dizziness.

He nearly swallowed the piece of paper under his tongue. He spit it out, sputtering a bit, and examined it. It was impossibly dry after being in his mouth for however long he'd been lying there, and folded to the size of a pellet. Unfolded, it bore a message probably charmed, like the paper itself, not to get wet.

__

We are doing what we can and urge you not to forsake your hopes. Stay alert.

Harry read it several times, each time cursing the creator of the message They were trying to bring him back. But they couldn't...just _couldn't_ - not while he was learning so much. And going back would mean choosing a side, something Riddle hadn't exactly made him do yet. Sure he took instructions from the man, but it wasn't as if he'd been asked to slay any muggles, or accept the Mark. Harry was blissfully suspended from a distinct role in the war...that is, so long as he stayed where he was.

He lit the paper in the palm of his hand and blew away the ashes. It wouldn't do to dwell on it now. It didn't seem like he should expect some action straight away, after all.

When the room ceased spinning, he headed straight for Riddle's study where it felt as if he was indeed alone again.

Though Riddle must have felt him coming, Harry knocked loudly. There was no answer for some time and the boy's patience was wearing thin. After more than a few moments he raised his fist to knock again as the door swung open. Riddle was seated at his desk writing vigorously in a journal-type book.

"You going to tell me what that was about, _sir_?"

"You'd do well to check you're tone, boy_._"

The way he emphasized 'boy' always seemed to turn his annoyance up one more notch. Harry breathed tensely for a moment, staring hard at the Dark Lord's hand gliding over the paper as he wrote. He distractedly wished those beautiful fingers were gliding over specific parts of himself instead of the parchment. He cleared his mind quickly.

"I just want to know what that was."

"Do you feel any different?"

"...No, not really..."

"Then it's nothing you need concern yourself with."

Harry ground his teeth, but knew nothing he could say would re-open the matter. Perhaps the potion was just an excuse for Sn--

-better to watch what he was thinking....

He had turned to go when Riddle closed his book.

"Sit down, Potter."

The only other chairs were the ones near the hearth. He headed toward them but Riddle interrupted.

"Call one here before my desk."

Harry sighed, extending a hand towards an armchair and drawing it forth. A small wave of self satisfaction passed over him.

"Now light the hearth."

He did this as well, though with a tad more reservation - those burns _had_ been painful.

Potter lowered himself into the chair once it was clear Riddle was done ordering him about. Riddle's hands rested calmly on top of the closed book, drawing far more of Harry's attention than they probably should have been. Crimson eyes washed over him in silent evaluation.

Silently, a palm-sized metal cube appeared between them on the desk.

"Make this into a dagger."

The boy groaned...mentally. He did sigh audibly, however, gathering what small knowledge he'd acquired that day. The cube was changed into a sort of irregular lump, closer to the candle-holder than the dagger.

"Stop." Riddle waved a hand over the mess and it was a cube once more. "Do you know what this is?"

"A...squarish...metal..."

"Cube, Potter. A simple iron cube. Now do you know what a dagger is?"

"Yes."

"Then why isn't there one on my desk?"

Harry answered him with a blank expression. Riddle tried another tactic.

"You aren't supposed to do _all_ of the work, you know. That's the trick to transfiguration with or without a wand. You provide the energy, and the direction...but the magic will do the rest."

He made Harry visualize his end product and various changes that needed to be made to reach the desired result. There was no wand involved and therefore no complicated swishing and flicking. When he was done, he held a rather fancy looking polished dagger that would wow the bun right off of McGonagal's head. It was easier than at school, if one had the whole raw magic thing under control.

Riddled tapped his fingers as he thought of another task. Harry watched them - long and spindly - until they abruptly stopped. The Dark Lord smiled thinly.

"Are we a bit.....distracted?"

"Um...no. A little....."

"By what exactly?"

__

God, your hands....your voice...

"Nothing. Your hands are just--"

__

Fucking beautiful....

Amused, Riddle waited expectantly.

".....just a bit distracting." He coughed pathetically to cover his embarrassment.

Riddle got up, pouring himself something alcoholic - Harry refused to look at his hands so he wasn't exactly sure what went in the cup. He pondered the young wizard before him.

"So just my hands are enough to draw your attention away from awareness? I suppose you never really did stand a chance against me in a real duel then..."

"They wouldn't have bothered me back THEN. Its just that now after we....."

"What, after what we did in there?" he asked when the boy hesitated, gesturing to the closed bedroom doors. "We haven't done all that much actually."

Harry's brow furrowed, a blush beginning on his neck.

"So what qualifies as 'much'?" He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but it skirted around awkward. As far as he was concerned, they'd pretty much done 'it'. What more could there be?

Riddle held his glass suspended, thoroughly intrigued by Harry's ignorance.

"Many things, really. Wouldn't do them any service to try describing them." He casually walked past where Harry was sitting, and idly picked over the bookshelves.

Harry turned in his chair, considering the opening Riddle had left him. He felt his own lips curling into a grin.

"Then show me."

Riddle 'hmmed' in his throat, as if weighing the request.

"I'm not entirely sure you're ready for all of that."

"Why not?"

"For one, you're still shy. As _charming_ as it may be," he began sardonically, "it wouldn't do for you to have some sort of breakdown."

Harry was officially offended. He stood, fists clenched angrily.

"_Not_ shy - self conscious. And I can assure you there will _not_ be a breakdown. If I haven't had one already, I doubt sex is going to cause one. I'm not a child, Tom."

There was a moment of silence, during which Riddle's gave him the most sadistic look Harry had ever thought possible. Something of Riddle's emotions tumbled off of him in a heated burst that filled the room. Harry couldn't stop the lump in his throat. The Dark Lord's voice was unnaturally quiet.

"So we're all grown up now, are we? Want to play like the adults?" Harry was silent. "I think I'll be the judge of that."

The doors to Riddle's bedchamber opened ominously.

"Once you cross that threshold, we'll have begun the lesson. The lesson ends when I decide it does, not when you think you've had enough. But that won't be a problem, will it Harry? With us being adults and all...."

The condescending tone was having it's intended diminishing effect, Harry could feel his confidence faltering, but the promise of pleasure like he'd experienced before at Riddle's expert hands reassured him that this was what he wanted.

"No, it won't," he answered, mustering as much reserve as he could. "If there's more, then I want to know. You said you'd show me, and I want you to."

Riddle watched this boy...young man, really, claim to want something so badly from him. Black locks laid haphazardly on his head and against his brow...above which lurked that infamous scar. His eyes were clear and resolute...prepared to defend himself to the death on the matter. For the first time that Riddle could recall, in this life or the previous one, he felt alive with the need to take someone....._truly_ take someone. Though, it was irksome that the boy didn't even know what he was asking for with such conviction. Perhaps tonight would put an end to that....

...but not likely.

He extended an arm towards the bedroom doors in invitation, which Harry accepted smoothly. Riddle closed the doors behind them, bathing the room in the dim glow of the few candles floating near the ceiling.

"On your knees," he ordered, simultaneously tapping the boy's shoulder with a finger.

Harry obeyed, trying to keep things running smoothly, though he had a bad feeling in his chest. Riddle wandered out of sight for a moment, returning without his robes. Harry decidedly thought robes hid too much of Riddle's form for his liking. The loose sleeves and fitted trousers suited him well.

Riddle's shoes came to a halt directly in front of Harry, and he couldn't help but notice his face was quite level with Riddle's groin.

"I want you to bring me off."

Harry looked up instinctively. ".......How?"

__

Indeed I have my work cut out for me....

"With your mouth." When Harry stared blankly at the fabric of Riddle's pants he sighed audibly, reaching down to undo his trousers. Cock newly exposed, Harry blatantly gaped at it. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen another man's cock before. But THIS cock....there was something forbidden about it. He couldn't help but notice it was a bit longer than his own, even in its semi -lax condition. He slowly leaned forward, as if expecting the offending piece of flesh to leap out and bite him, and opened his mouth...

"Stop. I ordered you to bring me off, not bite." Harry's entire neck and face colored vividly. "Seeing as how you've probably never done this before, I believe it's safe to leave teeth out for now."

A hand came under his chin, lightly lifting as Riddle pressed the tip to the boy's lips. Harry brought the member into his mouth more and more as he tried to get used to the feel of it on his tongue.

__

"Slowly. Relax the tongue before trying any more..."

'Relax' wasn't the easiest item on Harry's agenda. The taste of precum on the half-hard cock was bitter and he desperately wondered just what he'd do in the very probable case of a full ejaculation.

He had about half of it in his mouth when the thought occurred to him that he should probably start doing _something_ with the damn thing. He tried to imagine it was his cock and someone else was trying to make him come. What would he like? He remembered how sensitive the head was...almost insanely so when tended to properly. He was positive Tom Riddle was no exception.

Harry slid his tongue back under the soft underside and pressed it into the head firmly - Riddle gave a very soft but sudden inhalation. Encouraged, Harry drew small, tight rings around the tip with his tongue before nibbling his way back down the shaft.

He was determined to not embarrass himself in this. He'd have Riddle coming before he knew what hit him. _'Have a breakdown'...._

Unbelievable.

By the time Harry had worked the cock in as deeply as he could, Riddle was gripping the bedpost with white knuckles. Harry grinned around it and reached for the neglected scrotum sac, sliding them through his fist.

Riddle was sending wordless waves of approval across their connection, as if clear sentences were too much of a bother in his current condition. Harry worked steadily for a while, encouraged by the fingers in his hair. They caressed and gripped his hair in tune with his mouth and he knew he was hard. _Very_ hard. Well, as hard as a guy could get still wearing his trousers, and it was beginning to ache.

The older wizard suddenly began to pull out, stopping Harry. The latter watched him searchingly.

"Perhaps...another time," he muttered.

"What?"

There was a ghost of a smirk on Riddle's lips. "Use you hands, this time..."

It finally dawned on Harry that Riddle was sparing him the experience of having a mouthful. He wondered if the older wizard had read his thoughts on the matter earlier as he worked him to completion. The Dark Lord shuddered in Harry's palm, spilling his warm seed onto the younger wizard's hand. As he collected himself (namely fastening his trousers again), he muttered the cleaning charm and made Harry stand.

The boy was a little shaky getting to his feet, and Riddle absently supposed it was from arousal. His breath was a little quick, and his eyes brighter somehow and an eerier green in the golden lighting. Riddle rested a hand lightly on the boy's waist and he instinctively took a step closer to the older wizard. Riddle kissed him, slowly, and Harry responded eagerly. He didn't miss the firmness pressing against him through the boy's pants.

__

"That was....exceptional, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure what made the words even more believable - that they were thought in Parseltongue or the hand undoing his own trousers. He was also 'Harry', and not 'boy'... surely a another good sign.

Riddle's mouth never ceased as his hand closed around the stiffened flesh. Harry bucked into him instantly, groaning into the other's mouth. Riddle slipped his tongue into the boy's mouth, exploring freely until the boy bucked again. He pulled back a little.

__

"Patience...."

Harry was breathing deeply, trying to stop from grinding his hips into the older wizard

__

"I have been..."

Riddle chuckled softly and stepped away, to Harry's dismay. "Have you?" He circled the boy appraisingly, enjoying the frustration already building and rolling off of him. He stopped behind him and traced the outline of his hips. "I suppose you have, then. But...what if I don't want you to come that way?"

Harry leaned back against him, sighing as Riddle allowed his fingers to glide over the erect cock.

"How then?"

"On your own."

He sucked in a breath.

"While....you...watch?"

Riddle's response was laughter. The boy's reservewa_s_ indeed charming.

He took hold of one of Harry's hands and placed them on his own cock as if to get him started. Then he busied himself with the boy's neck, tasting and sucking lightly as Harry made the first few tentative strokes. He did his best to stifle any sounds, hoping to get by with coming quietly, but Riddle would have no such thing.

"I want to hear you. Don't ever hold back unless I tell you to, Harry."

His hands glided up searching for a pair of pert nipples, which they found with little trouble. Harry gasped and broke his rhythm momentarily. Riddle kissed the side of his neck where the salty twinge of sweat could be found in the junction of neck and shoulder. The boy's head was thrown completely back.

__

"You taste...very curious, Harry. Would you like to know how you taste?"

The boy nodded slowly, a slight jarring of the head really. Riddle adjusted enough to kiss the boy's mouth, pushing his tongue inside instantly. Harry moaned deeply, picking up the pace with his erection.

Riddle supported most of his weight by that point, for he could barely stand through it all. He came very shortly all over his hands, and when the moment passed he stared down at his handiwork as if surprised to see it. Riddle rescued him again with a cleaning charm.

"You've done _very_ well. And with the 'lesson' over, I'd like for you to sleep here." He guided Harry over to his bed, magic-ing away both of their clothing before sliding in. The cool sheets felt good against Harry's bare skin as he melted bonelessly into the bed clothes. He felt sated and a bit proud that he'd impressed Riddle. Not a child indeed, if he did say so.

Riddle lay on his side watching Harry get drowsy.

"We'll do this again...won't we?"

"Yes...and so much more."

His lids had already drooped shut.

... ... ...

A/N:

Thanks again for your commentary. I know it's been quite a wait but i've learned from experience that it's better this way for both of us...lol I wrote a fic once in which i pumped out a chapter like every 3 or 4 days and ended up digging myself into a plot whole so big i had to discontinue the fic. Since i dont plan this fic out in outline form or anything...i have to at least think a few chapters ahead. So....i'm afraid the waits will be pretty much like this one. So just check now and then....no reason to think i died or anything....lol

This i think was a bit more involved that the others...and brought some things to the surface. Hopefully this fic doesnt turn out to be crazy-long - got college in a couple of weeks after all. But if it does, i'll just have to keep going at my own pace.

Well, hope you enjoy so far!

See ya next time then

btw, for BitchoftheHighwayTheives, the answer is Latin...to go with the Roman numerals n all. (hope i'm not mangling it too badly in that case...heh...)


	12. Undecim

XI

He knew he was dreaming, just as he'd known weeks ago at the Dursleys'. It was completely dark and drafty just as it had been in his 'dreams' of Voldemort. However, there was no pulse of light beckoning him forth - just a voice.

An unfamiliar voice.

It was soft but distinctly of the wry type.

_"What a pair..."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"....An observer, really.__ If you want to meet me, wake up."_

The dream was very brief and faded before Harry had gotten any answers. Unsettled, he woke to find Riddle still beside him. Asleep.

This was a first for Harry.

He looked deceptively calm in his slumber, if he was indeed asleep. Somehow it seemed odd for the Dark Lord to yield to such a mortal necessity. If he didn't need food as normal wizards and witches did, why rest? His back was to Harry, something that caused a small stirring within him.

That was a very vulnerable position for a wizard to put himself in, considering the parties involved, that is. Surely Riddle didn't trust him _that_ much?

His lids fluttered momentarily before going completely still again.

Apparently so.

But Riddle wasn't what drew him from his own little slumber. Someone had spoken to him, much the same way as Riddle had done before abducting him.

But who?

His next question was answered by a fierce tugging. He felt himself being urged or drawn off of the bed and towards the bedroom doors. Riddle did not wake through all of this, though the younger wizard was sure he was making enough ruckus to do so. The mysterious tugging ceased once he was out of the bed, and Harry swiftly threw on his shirt and trousers...discarded carelessly during his 'lesson'.

So maybe it wasn't just dream.

He didn't linger on the thought, just left the room quietly, taking long purposeful strides past Riddle's desk and out of his study. Harry didn't even need candlelight to guide him; it seemed he was being urged along by this mysterious persona to wherever it was he was awaiting him.

He should have known it would be the cellar.

The stone hall looked more foreboding and ominous in the dark. The wards were there, which was what made Harry stop. However, his earring hadn't started stinging in his left lobe. Taking a tentative step towards it, Harry was surprised that the wards didn't hurt him.

Now, Riddle was nothing if not thorough. One would have to be pretty formidable to alter his wards. And it seemed these were no longer in a hurry to 'ward' Harry away from the cellar. There was no aura to speak of, yet who ever was calling for him was down there.

Harry felt as he was still dreaming as he followed the stairs down into the cellar. The lab doors were closed but they opened without protest. The lab was dark and silent, making Harry wish he'd thought to bring his wand along.

Funny how he was getting on without it these days....

There was no more mysterious tugging and the lab was deathly silent. He deliberated whether or not he should just turn back, that is before Riddle woke and found him wandering around down there, but a voice nearly startled him out of his skin.

"I'm still waiting...."

It wasn't in his head this time, which made his heart thump loudly in his chest. He still felt no aura, but it had come from the back of the lab, around where he thought he saw the portrait...

Feeling more than a little silly for not having thought of it sooner, he made his way to the hall, praying he didn't upset anything on the benches. He blindly called a candle to him and lit it, too anxious to revel in the small success. Raising the light to the far wall he sucked in a startled breath to see the face of a man watching him sternly.

"Finally."

"Are....are you one of Riddle's relations?" he asked, unnerved to no end to find a portrait here after seeing none what so ever in the entire mansion.

"In a rather circuitous way, yes."

Considering Riddle's mother had been a witch, Harry assumed this mysterious person was from her side of the family. After all, no muggle would have a talking portrait. There were small similarities between this wizard and Tom Riddle: his features were smooth, though not without age. The long hair , though streaked with white and grey, had clearly been black at some point. His nose was pointed and distinct, spelling nobility. Even this slight arch of his right brow was very _Tom_.

"Well, why did you bring me down here? Tom may wake up and—"

"_'Tom'_? Gotten to know one another rather well, it seems. Do you realize how your fellow witches and wizards would react to your current situation?"

Harry's mouth turned down in a deepening frown. He rather liked pretending his 'fellow witches and wizards' didn't exist.

"They aren't my 'fellows'. They've done nothing but expect the impossible from me since the day this all started."

"The…impossible?" he asked. "You don't mean destroying Voldemort do you?"

"Isn't that what everyone wants?"

The portrait raised a brown.

"If _everyone_ wanted that, don't you think he'd already be dead?"

Before Harry could answer the portrait continued.

"Do you really think you have not killed him because you _can_ not kill him…?"

Harry's rapid thoughts were beginning to make him feel light-headed.

"It is not my intention to unsettle you. But these are things you must think about before I can tell you anymore about your current situation and why you are where you are right now."

A knot slowly began to form in his stomach as he remembered his original question. This was no ordinary wizard's portrait.

"Who _are_ you?"

The portrait regarded him for a long moment, deliberating.

"You might say I'm who Tom gets his inspiration from, though, his actions are _entirely_ his own."

_Slytherin…._

"Slytherin…" The name fell out of his mouth as if it had been on the tip of his tongue all along.

"Surprised?" he asked in way of confirmation.

"Sort of….how did you—"

"The details are not important. But as you know, Tom is my heir, and as such, is capable of some exceptional feats."

Harry regarded him with a sudden degree of wonder….and caution. Slytherin did have a bit of a reputation.

"So it seems you've made a tremendous decision, pairing up with the Dark Lord. Are you prepared to live up to it?"

"Haven't I been?"

The question was answered by silence.

"Well I don't know what you're talking about then. And it's getting late." He turned to leave, frustrated with the degree of evasiveness he was receiving from a portrait, even if it was supposedly Salazar Slytherin.

"Tom Riddle's existence is being threatened. I say 'existence' because this time there is no coming back."

So _now_ they were getting somewhere…

"You mean his Death Eaters? Or the rest of the wizarding world?"

"I mean what I said and _only_ what I said. But you should know your blissful neutrality in this war can not last forever. At this point you can still safely claim the cause of a victim, stolen away and made prisoner by the evil mad wizard. Or you can fully take responsibility for your choice to learn from the darkest wizard known to wizard-kind."

"Have you seen what will happen?"

"I see everything."

An odd statement coming from a portrait. But, again, this was no ordinary portrait.

"I'll cloak the memory of this visit so that Tom will not know it happened. But you'd be better off learning how to do it on your own."

A fuzzy sensation began in his head as the portrait spoke once more.

"He's been training you for a reason, Potter. I think it's time you considered when to apply it."

… … …

With a final stir, the potion turned completely black. It was the proper thickness, color, and emitted a slightly metallic odor.

It was finished.

Snape extinguished the cauldron and waited the correct amount of time before bottling its contents. He refused to think that Voldemort might have seen through his untruth. If the dark lord knew what the potion _really_ was, he'd have never let Snape leave the mansion.

In the bottle, it glowed slightly red in the center indicating that the potion it was connected to was still active. The drinker of this potion could still reach the other subject through that connection, but only for a few more days. Snape prayed that the next gathering happened within the week, or he'd have to find a way to get the boy another dose.

_Lucius, you had better hold onto your end of this…_

… … …

"I'm going out."

Harry looked up from his book.

"Have you eaten?"

"No, sir, not yet."

"Good. You'll be coming along."

Harry marked his place in the book and stood up just in time to catch the bundle tossed to him - another outfit.

"I'll be waiting in the entry-hall for you. Change quickly."

Riddle was gone before Harry could ask any questions, but based on the quality of the outfit, they wouldn't be spending a lot of time in the forest. He met Riddle downstairs as instructed, rather liking the way his cloak matched the older wizard's, even down to the way it swished when he walked. He followed Riddle to the usual area that allowed for apparition, all the while trying not to think of his bizarre meeting with the portrait. Two days had gone by and whatever 'Salazar' had done, Riddle had no knowledge of the meeting, or least he made no mention of knowing. Harry felt as if any second of weakness would betray him. And quite suddenly Riddle was watching him with a raised brow – _the_ raised brow.

"Are you ready? It's getting late."

_Late for what?_

"Yes. But….where are we—"

"You'll see," he replied, grasping the boy's hand firmly and apparating them off the estate.

They landed in a grassy grove of trees, that is, Harry landed and Riddle _arrived_ in top form as usual. He brushed himself off and took a look around.

"Another forest then?"

Riddle started off towards a meadow without answering. Harry nearly scowled in response.

_Can't he just answer the question?_

Harry started after him with some sort of indignant remark on his lips but the words died at the sight of a manor a ways off in the distance. He ran to catch up.

"Who lives there?"

"The Malfoys," he answered simply.

Harry stopped short.

"I'm not going in there."

Riddle kept walking as if Harry hadn't spoken.

"Yes, you are."

Harry was furious and refused to take another step towards the house. "The Malfoy's" meant Draco, and Draco was the last person he wanted to deal with at the moment.

_"I haven't got all evening. We are here for dinner, among other things."_

_"They'll wait. Why didn't you tell me?"_

The earring began to burn instantly, eliciting a cry from Harry. He stumbled toward the Dark Lord.

"You really ought to watch your temper. And I didn't tell you because this is what you'd do. It's easier to apparate a _willing_ participant," he explained when Harry was once again at his side.

"Willing my arse! I want to go back, Tom. _Now."_

This time, Riddle stopped walking. His eyes were darker than usual, which likely indicated he was getting pissed.

"You _want_?" he ground out. "I suggest you stop behaving like a _child_ and pay closer attention. In case you missed what I just said, we are here for a reason. Now keep walking," he snapped.

Harry wisely held his tongue and begrudgingly followed in Riddle's steps.

The silence continued as they continued on towards the manor. It was a hulking, but grand structure of smooth grey marble, and more windows than could be counted at that distance. As they neared the actual property lines, Riddle finally spoke and in a much calmer voice.

"What exactly turns you away from this place?"

"Draco."

Surprisingly enough, that hadn't been what Riddle was expecting to hear. While Harry was more of an adult than most of the men Riddle had met in his days, the muttered response reminded him once again there was always growing to be done.

"_Draco?" _he repeated dubiously. "Lucius' pathetic offspring? If for some reason you're concern—"

"Not concerned. I just don't feel like dealing with him is all. Who knows what he'll tell his friends once he sees me with you."

_Growing indeed…_

"Well, now that the Death Eaters have seen you with me, I doubt you showing up here can do any more damage in that respect. They do have sons and daughters, you know."

Realizing he hadn't thought of that, Harry felt silly for protesting so adamantly.

"But still, why apparate all the way out here?"

"There are wonderful things we call wards. And while _I_ could get through them blindfolded, I can't yet say the same for you during apparition. Besides, we want to surprise them. Can't have the trace of magic alerting them just yet."

It was bizarre to hear Lord Voldemort speak of his own followers that way.

"Checking up on them then?"

"Something like that. The less time they have to prepare themselves, the better."

They reached the property gates soon enough and they opened for Riddle as if they'd been charmed to. An elf appeared in their path a few yards from the manor itself.

"Kopi welcomes master. Please follow."

Lucius himself met them in the entry hall looking as calm as usual, though it was odd for Harry to see him without his outer robes. It gave the impression that he'd rushed down to greet them, only pausing for composure seconds before they entered. His hair lay loose and pale around his shoulders, and he gave it an impatient flick before bowing politely to the Dark Lord. Harry made an effort not to look too observant.

"An honor, my lord."

"Lucius. My apologies for imposing but Potter and I were rather nearby and Malfoy dinners are worth the trouble…that is, if we aren't too late?"

"You are just in time. And of course it is no trouble at all, my lord. If you'll give my wife and son a moment, they'll be joining us for dinner. That is, unless you wished to dine privately and discuss…other matters…"

"There will be no need for all of that. Besides, Potter could use some of Draco's company, couldn't you boy?"

He could feel his stomach tightening at the condescending tone Riddle so casually adapted. It was necessary, but did it have to be so convincing?

"Yes, master," he muttered appropriately.

Lucius observed the exchange with a slightly raised brow. "If you wish, my lord. Draco will be most honored to have you as well."

_"We were' nearby?'"_Harry questioned, following behind Riddle.

_"It doesn't have to be believable. As a matter of fact, these 'visits' are designed to make him wonder."_

They followed Lucius to rather ornate sitting room where they were seated to wait. Harry had the honor of sitting on the floor beside Riddle's chair, as was of course appropriate. He minded up until Lucius excused himself and he felt familiar fingers slide into his hair.

It should have been humiliating. It really should have.

_"How long have you been…coming here like this?"_

_"Nearly as long as I've known him."_

The answer gave the impression that it had been a considerable amount of time.

_"Have you always…not trusted him?"_

_"I've never trusted anyone. To place one's trust in another is an invitation to betrayal."_

Harry's thoughts flew instantly to the sight of Riddle lying in bed, seemingly asleep and so relaxed. The image clashed blatantly with Riddle's ultra-Slytherin response. The fingers in his hair hesitated momentarily, and Harry could feel a presence in his thoughts. Quickly he pushed the thought away and sought to distract him.

"Maybe you haven't found anyone…worthy of that trust."

It seemed to have worked, though Harry was surprised by his own words. He had only been speculating, but he suspected they were true. Riddle grew up in an orphanage, and then Slytherin House in Hogwarts. The company he kept, if any, probably didn't warrant friendship, at least not the healthy kind Harry and his friends were accustomed to. Trust probably wasn't a good idea back in Riddle's day.

"Perhaps there is no one," he answered indifferently, twirling a lock of Harry's hair with two of his fingers.

Lucius returned, leaving no time for a response, and brought them to the dining room where Narcissa and Draco awaited, wearing varying degrees of carefully concealed discomfort on their faces. For the first time Harry could recall, Draco avoided eye contact with the Boy-Who-Lived.

As dinner was underway, Riddle conversed with Lucius and occasionally Narcissa about wizard politics, and what went on in the Ministry these days. He acted more like a family acquaintance than their lord and master. It, or at least _something_ seemed to be the cause of a general degree of awkwardness for the family, though Lucius handled it well enough. The problem began when Riddle addressed a question to Draco, previously unspoken to.

The subject of wizard economics had come up rather circuitously and Riddle had plainly asked Draco what he planned on doing after completing that "pathetic excuse for a wizard's education."

Though ignored, Harry had been allowed to sit at the table for 'good behavior', and therefore could see the reactions of the Malfoys to all that went on. He looked up calmly, and for a moment, Harry thought Draco would handle it as smoothly as his father.

"Actually, I…haven't given it a lot of thought, si- my lord."

Lucius' fork clanged loudly.

"Draco, honestly, you're beginning your last year. If you haven't given it thought by now…"

"I…just meant that I haven't decided, father."

But the damage was done, and there was no doubt Riddle had picked up on Draco's little slip.

"Your father is right, boy. Just what _are_ you going to do?" he asked slowly. "Before you know it, schooling will be done with, and you'll be faced with a nasty crossroad. And no one wants to choose the wrong path, do they boy?"

Draco risked a glance at Lucius. His father's jaw went very stiff.

"No, my lord, I suppose not. And, yes I should have given it more thought by now."

Riddle smiled smugly, happily aware of the discomfort he was causing, and Lucius' anger. Oh, Draco was definitely in for a Malfoy tongue-lashing. A pity he couldn't watch.

Silence passed until Narcissa made a few more pathetic attempts at civil conversation to clear the air. The dinner itself was excellent, as was to be expected. Though Harry wanted desperately to return to Riddle's home where he could think. The dark lord seemed to be thinking the same for he declined an offer to stay for a brandy after dessert.

"I'm afraid Potter and I have imposed long enough. Dinner was exquisite as always, Lucius."

Lucius gave a curt nod in response, seeing them out like any good host. When the door closed and the house grew silent once again, Lucius spoke without turning to the blonde he knew was standing behind him.

"Wait for me in my office."

"….Yes, sir."

… … …

A.N.

Let's just say the wait was probably harder for me than the readers. I say that because its pretty much torture to have ideas and _want_ to write them down, but have simply no time to do so. To get this much out before the end of the month took sacrificing some of the few hours of sleep I've been getting. If ANYONE is still checking up on this story, I don't know how to thank you except by to continue working on it. I haven't completely proofread this so…I might be re-uploading it a few times. Just bear with me. Again, sincere apologies, and thanx to the readers.

btw: doubling up on college sciences big mistake

collapses


	13. Duodecim

XII – Duodecim

… … …

That evening after the Malfoy dinner they dueled. Riddle didn't seem angry by any stretch of the word, but he didn't hold back. He used a number of new spells on Harry, but he was a quick learner. He kept up extremely well, firing off considerably strong spells in quick succession. So caught up in the session was he that he didn't even feel his own fatigue approaching. He had raised his right palm to deflect the next of Riddle's offensives when he swayed on his feet. He paused, to see if the feeling would pass, but before he knew it, he was heading down to his knees.

He didn't hear or feel Riddle cross the empty ballroom, but he did feel his grip on his shoulder before he blacked out completely.

He regained consciousness in Riddle's study, stretched out on an elongated armchair. He didn't notice Riddle himself until he tried to sit up and nearly blacked out again.

"You'll want to lie there just a bit longer. Your body needs a little more time to recuperate."

"From what?"

"Rest first. Talking requires energy too, I imagine."

Harry acquiesced, though reluctantly. Riddle eyed him from his desk, making sure he was complying before scribbling rapidly in his journal. Harry's little faint was as much his fault as it was Harry's. While the admission disgusted him, he had been preoccupied with his thoughts. He hadn't even been keeping track of how long they were dueling. It was a wonder the boy hadn't killed himself with the exertion. Come to think of it, the boy had passed out less than an hour ago - by all accounts he should have been unconscious for at least a day.

It was very apparent to Riddle that the boy's limits were unclear, which made training him a rather foiling task. He couldn't afford to have his prized asset burned out at such a dangerous time. He still had a hard time believing the boy had accepted the situation and was progressing with his experience. With so much raw power to be harnessed and controlled, the possibilities were endless.

The boy's chest rose and fell gently and he rested near the hearth. His eyes were open, a pair of green gems staring blankly at the ceiling. He knew the boy was aware of his gaze - he always was. While it didn't seem to upset him nearly as much as it initially had, it was something that would irk him so long as he was so self- conscious. Another thing to be grown out of. And he would grow - Riddle himself would see to it. Anything it took to nurture that power and claim it for his cause.

It was strange how his priorities had shifted from wanting nothing other than to wipe the boy from existence to making it his personal mission to craft him into the most powerful wizard he could be.

Beneath himself, of course.

They would be completely unstoppable.

The boy coughed lightly and turned over on his side to face the hearth. Riddle set down his quill and approached Harry. He felt his forehead, rubbing his thumb over the scar without even realizing it. Harry's body shuddered lightly but he continued to stare at the flickering hearth.

"Will you tell me what happened now?"

Impatience. He remembered being sixteen and _very_ impatient.

"I suppose, if you haven't figured it out. You exhausted yourself. Your power is restoring itself."

"There's got to be some way to feel it ebbing or something. I didn't even realize I was tired until I hit the floor."

"You have to be more aware of yourself. Keep in mind the strength of the spells you're casting. It is easy to lose yourself in a duel. The violence can be...intoxicating."

Harry stiffened. Violence? He didn't consider himself a violent person. But the pull _was_ there as he hurled and blocked those spells. He wanted to keep going, and would have if his collapse hadn't prevented him from doing so. Merlin, had he always been this way? He didn't recall feeling that way in the dueling club. Or did he? What was happening to him?

Riddle watched the warring expressions on Harry's face. So the concept wasn't going down so smoothly. That was to be expected. He wondered if Harry would accept the side of himself that most pretended didn't exist in 'good wizards'. The thrill of casting magic for survival was natural, as it had always been for Riddle. It didn't make one good or bad, but that just wasn't an option in wizardry today, was it?

Harry sat up, and succeeded this time with minimal difficulty. The expression on his face was difficult to place.

"I won't let you make me into a killer, Tom."

_Ah, the verdict…_

"Make? Who says I'll have to make you do anything?"

There was a seedy silence, one Riddle took a risk in breaking.

"Are you under the impression that someone _made_ me take lives? We make ourselves, Harry."

He looked down at Harry with a slightly dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I have enough 'killers' who enjoy what they do. If you think dueling alone will make you into one, you've cause for a serious self evaluation."

Bright eyes narrowed a fraction. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything except that there are parts of yourself long ignored or shunned for one reason or another. I won't have you blaming myself or any other for them being there to begin with."

"I'm _not_ addicted to violence. I've never felt that way during a duel before _you_ started training me. If I happen to find it suspicious, you'll have to bear with me," he ground out icily.

"No. You never felt that way before because you've never dueled without counting on a wooden stick to do most of the work. Now the magic is flowing _directly_ from you, and you're hungry for more. I have absolutely no control over that."

After a moment of silent scrutiny, Harry stood gingerly, and made his way toward the door.

"If you can not accept it Harry, we will not be able to continue."

The door closed with a soft click.

((chapter division!))

Snape had been finalizing lesson plans for the upcoming year when the Mark made him drop his quill.

It was time.

With any luck, the potion would still be active and Harry could be safely brought back before the Dark Lord even realized what was happening. Snape prayed the meeting didn't mean he had been found out. Or worse, Lucius selling out on him.

No. One could only be positive in a time like this, or risk making critical errors.

He donned the robe and mask, deeply hoping it would be the last time.

((chapter division!))

Harry slept through most of the night, albeit fitfully, waking multiple times feeling restless and unsettled. By the time he actually achieved a sound sleep, it was the early hours of morning and he ended up sleeping all the way through the next afternoon. He didn't care if Riddle had something for him to do or not - he was exhausted, mentally and physically. Besides, he needed to organize his thoughts.

Perhaps Riddle was right; he may have been this way all along and just didn't realize it. After all, magic did feel _very_ different without a wand, like pulling something from deeper within yourself than ever before. It was quite possible that doing so tapped into emotions and feelings buried just as deeply.

If that was the case, he had to be extra careful when practicing without his wand. If he were to lose himself completely, there was no telling what he'd do to himself or whoever was around for that matter. Then again, what if that was Riddle's intention? Like Slytherin said, Riddle was obviously training him for a reason. What if that reason _was_ to kill? Riddle could certainly be lying about 'having enough killers'. Besides, what was the point of having killers he obviously couldn't trust?

There was a 'pop' and a small cloud of smoke at the foot of his bed.

"Wodie?"

"Master Potter should get up now. It is time for Potter's dinner."

"Dinner? What time is it?"

"It is nearly six o'clock. Potter has slept too long."

Ignoring the last bit, Harry reached out to sense Riddle, surprised to feel the presence of over a dozen others. He must have called a gathering, though six o'clock seemed a bit early for that.

"I'll be a few minutes."

While not completely satisfied, Wodie disappeared again as Harry headed for the shower. Fresh clothes had been laid out again, he dawned them without even noticing they weren't green this time. He devoured his dinner alone in the same dinning room Riddle often lectured him in over meals. He found himself wondering what was going on with the gathering. He could feel the familiar auras - Malfoy's was of course prominent. After his meal he decided to take a walk. Perhaps being closer to the ballroom would help him sense the others.

It was when he reached the stairs that he thought he felt something. It wasn't really a presence but a feeling... coming from the cellar. Thinking perhaps it was the portrait again, Harry headed for the stone hallway stopping when the 'feeling' hit him with greater strength. Something was really wrong.

He hesitated, not knowing if he should call Tom or go look for himself. If it was nothing and he got Riddle, the latter wouldn't be too happy. But if it was serious....

He found himself heading down the stairs wishing he'd brought his wand just in case. The cellar door was open a crack and there were soft shuffling noises coming from inside. He took another step and there was a 'whoosh' behind him that nearly startled him into falling down the remaining stairs. The robed figure grabbed his hand and pulled out a coffee mug. A port-key.

"T-Tonks?"

"Come on. We'll explain later!"

Before he could protest she activated the port-key and they disappeared from the mansion.

… … …

"You were right, Albus. I feared we'd never see him alive again."

"Yes, but Severus' fate remains to be seen."

"Maybe we should have waited a bit more before getting the boy…at least till Severus was on his way out?"

"This was his decision and I have great faith in him, Minerva."

The voices quieted as they came to the door of the hospital wing. Harry sat on the edge of one of the beds as the Headmaster and Professor McGonagal approached him with solemn faces. Madame Pomfrey emerged from a room in the back, but it was the headmaster that spoke first.

"Poppy has informed me that your health is surprisingly fine, Harry. How do you feel?"

_Like I was nearly snatched out of my skin._

"Ok, I think. How did you find me?"

"Well, that was mostly Severus' doing, though it was Nimphadora who was actually sent to get you. The details can be imparted later, after you've rested."

"I'm not tired. Just…tell me what's going on."

All three adults exchanged brief glances before the Headmaster answered.

"Alright. If you'll excuse us, Minerva, Poppy…Harry and I will have a talk."

They both offered the boy a smile.

"It is good to have you back, Mr. Potter."

Alone with the headmaster, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. Riddle's aura was so slight he could barely detect it from within Hogwarts' walls.

"Before I explain any further, I'll need to know that you're really alright. You've spent the past few weeks in the presence of Lord Voldemort. I imagine it has taken a toll on you."

Harry wasn't sure what the headmaster was expecting to hear, but if anything, he wasn't about to explain his arrangement with the Dark Lord – not yet.

"It was, an interesting experience."

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to tell me, Harry?"

He trained his eyes on his shoes, watching them swing to and fro with an air of detachment.

"What has Snape told you so far?"

"Professor Snape has only expressed a concern for Voldemort's treatment of you."

_I'll just bet he did…._

"You don't have to tell anything you do not wish to. But I am here to help you, as always Harry."

_Like when he kidnapped me to begin with…._

Harry nodded, trying to come up with something without imparting too much of his experiences.

"He didn't hurt me that much, if that is what you mean. He liked just having me around to fuel his ego, I guess. I wasn't allowed to leave, of course. But he was pretty busy with other things most of the time."

_Like training me to be the most powerful wizard my age._

"Ah, well it is very fortunate he was preoccupied, then. Is there anything you'd like to know, Harry?"

"How you...well, how Tonks was able to use a port-key inside the manor."

"Ah, that was a bit of a difficult matter. Do you recall Severus' administering a potion?"

"Yes."

"It was part of a spell known as the _Sangui Semitor_. It is a blood spell."

Harry nearly choked on the last part.

"You used a blood spell? Was it my blood?" he asked incredulously. Last he knew, blood spells were considered dark magic. Somehow Dumbledore and dark magic just didn't sit well.

"Yes. It was from a Quidditch injury, believe it or not. I was afraid it wouldn't be fresh enough for the spell, but it worked."

Riddle was going to be furious. The whimsical response only furthered his feeling of unease.

"So, what about To...the Dark Lord? He's going to retaliate, right?"

"You won't have to worry about that, Harry. You're back at Hogwarts now, and soon Voldemort will cease to exist."

"…What?"

"That is all I'll say on the matter for now. It's a bit early to be sure, but I want you to concentrate on nothing but rest." The Headmaster patted his shoulder lightly. "You've done extremely well, Harry."

For some reason, coming from the headmaster, the words made him feel ill. But he nodded, and watched the older wizard turn to leave.

"The houselves are preparing your room, I'll let you know when its ready for you to move into."

"Move in?"

"Yes. Your things have already been retrieved from the Dursleys'."

Harry nodded politely as the headmaster left, not quite able to thank him. Tom was obviously in danger, that much was clear. But in what way, he wasn't sure. If only Dumbledore had been more specific.

And why was he all but planning an intervention?

_Slow down Harry. Time to think._

He laid back, stretching across the bed so that his legs and arms dangled off either side. He needed to make up his mind, that was the most pertinent. He would either rejoin his original cause by staying here at the school, learning 'good' wand magic…

_Merlin, my wand is still at the manor…_

…or do something about Riddle by contacting him or finding a way to him. He could barely sense him here, which was a problem if he needed to actually speak to him. Harry suspected it had something to do with the score of protective spells guarding the place. Which meant he might just have to get outside of the wards to try anything.

He massaged his temples, trying to formulate some sort of plan of action. He remained that way for no longer than a few minutes before the scar on his forehead erupted in pain. Through his blinded thoughts he knew this pain – it was the pain of anger and something he literally hadn't felt in weeks.

The pain continued, preventing any true coherent thought, though he could feel Riddle through their connection. He thought he would faint before it stopped, or in this case dull significantly. It didn't seem to completely go away this time.

Harry was panting feverishly by the time he could think again. He couldn't recall the Dark Lord ever being so angry. The force of it seized his entire body and made him realize its intensity. There was no doubt he had discovered Harry's absence. Whether or not he knew Harry had little to do with it was another matter, but the fact remained that he was genuinely pissed.

_"Tom?"_ he tried furtively.

There was no response, not that Harry knew what he would have said.

He felt uneasy now with the knowledge that Snape was still there and could be found out. An anger like that was a dangerous thing, and in Snape's case, would not spell mercy. But then, there was Dumbledore's plan that he seemed to think would be the end of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps Snape wasn't in as much danger as he thought.

As he lay there waiting to be taken to his room, Harry wished with all his might that he could just press a button and pause the war like a muggle video.

… … …

'"Would you mind informing the boy that his room is prepared and ready now, Poppy?

"Of course. But I think there's something I should tell you."

Dumbledore waited expectantly, taking note of the medi-wizard's solemnity.

"There was _one_ thing I noticed when examining Mr. Potter. His ear.''

"What about his ear?"

"I noticed there was a piece of jewlery there, a new development as far as I'm aware. And it seemed to be emitting…dark magic."

"Are you certain?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded, looking very worried at the idea herself.

"And that's not all. I asked him if he wanted me to remove it right away and he told me not to….said that it wasn't bothering him. Normally I would have pressed the issue, but given the situation..."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"I see. Go on and let him know the room is ready. I'll keep this in mind in the mean time."

She nodded, rounding the bend to the hospital wing.

_Harry, I've always had great faith in you._

The portraits watched him silently as he turned to his office.

End Part One

A.N: I get the feeling this story is going to end up being way longer than I intended. You've all been very patient considering how sporadic my updates are. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying it, and thank you for reviewing. Which reminds me….

"Blah…" isn't a review - it's a sound (I think), and will be treated as such. If you aren't enjoying the fic and feel like saying so, do that. And politely explain why. Critique is how authors improve which is why I welcome ALL reviews. Otherwise, don't bother.

BD

p.s: I tried to fix the inter-chapter divisions (between Snape's p.o.v. and Harry's). doesn't seem to recognize asterisks anymore, or any other symbol that can divide text, so I've resorted to just typing 'chapter division'. Srry if that kills the story mood, i'm sorta out of ideas. If you want to read the visually pleasing version of my fic its up at www restrictedsection org , where i can actually slap the NC-17 rating on it. (tried to insert a smiley but ffnet zapped that too....)


	14. Tredecim

XIII - Tredecim

Part Two

"_We aren't where we once were."_

_-TR_

Advanced Transfiguration had been an _amazing_ class that day. So amazing that after his pigeon had been changed into a mandrake root, and silenced, he promptly rested his head on the desk and attempted to doze off. He was awaken by the severe tapping of McGonagal's wand on his desk.

"Mr. Potter! I suggest you exercise better time management if you aren't getting enough sleep at night. Otherwise, there will be no napping in this class."

Harry rubbed his eyes blearily and tried to focus on her annoyed expression.

"Well? Your mandrake?"

He set the sleeping mandrake in front of her aware of his friends' eyes on him from their desks.

"Color's a bit grey, but not bad for your first try. If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a talent for this, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Professor."

Another weekend was ahead of him, and another opportunity to leave the castle. It had been two and a half months since the events of his summer vacation and Harry had never left the castle grounds.

Dumbledore suspected something.

This was the only explanation Harry could come up with. There had been three Hogsmeade weekends, and he'd been instructed not to go on each occasion for "safety reasons". And if that hadn't been enough, he was kept busy while the trip was underway as if to discourage any attempt to leave the castle regardless of the order.

It was insulting.

He played along in the meantime, with a replacement wand and a facade that said everything was peachy again. His friends had been informed of his unfortunate capture during the summer, and of course made every 'friendly' attempt to pry the details from his lips. They meant well, but Harry didn't think they would be able to handle their best friend taking instruction from the world's darkest wizard. Not to mention the wizard that killed his parents. He didn't expect that they'd understand, so he didn't ask them to. He fed them a few vague torture stories and a typical bout of evasiveness and they gave him space to explain in his own time.

Riddle had been correct to assume his Death Eaters would tell their sons and daughters what they'd seen of Potter. For it was obvious Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones aware of his capture. Harry was treated to all sorts of looks and jibes on the matter. Most would smirk, truly believing the Gryffindor golden boy had gotten what he deserved. Harry enjoyed smirking back, something they weren't too comfortable with. Because they had no idea what he'd _really_ gotten from the Dark Lord.

Professor Snape had returned from the manor that climactic day shaken but unharmed. Lucius, to their knowledge, had gone missing or into hiding after the ordeal – it was difficult to say. But Draco was absent this term as well. He was rumored to have transferred to Durmstrang or some other academy for his final term, but it didn't sit well with Harry. Too much had happened.

It was an understatement, really. So much had happened that Harry no longer felt like the same person. Or perhaps it was more appropriate to say he was finally acknowledging hidden parts of himself. He spent endless hours in the restricted section now, browsing freely at night as if his name had been stamped on every cover. It was knowledge, after all, and he was entitled to it.

Harry's first priority had been his mental strength. Salazar had recommended learning to cloak his thoughts, and that was precisely what he did. It was an odd thing to learn from a book, but in the end all that mattered was that his thoughts were truly his own.

There was enough time before dinner for a nap and perhaps finishing his potions essay. Harry hurried up to his room without waiting on his friends. That didn't stop Ron from running to catch up.

"Hey! Harry wait up!"

Harry sighed and slowed his pace.

"You alright mate? You looked 'bout ready to hit the sack in there."

"I'm fine...just tired I think. I'm going to take a nap before dinner. If I sleep through it, don't wake me...I'm not that hungry."

"If you say so. Hey, if you need anything..."

"Yes, I know. Thanks."

He continued on without the redhead till he arrived at the Gryffindor tower. The sight of his bed brought more joy than it should have at this time of day. He started to remove his shoes when he noticed an owl at the window. He let it in, shocked to no end to find his wand clutched in its talons. There was no note, but he knew who sent it. The owl took off before Harry could even reward it, leaving him with the polished wood in hand.

What did this mean?

Instinctively his hand went to where the stud was magically concealed. He much rather would have left it in plain sight, but the thought of his friends' reactions when he told them where it came from was enough to change his mind. He was surprised how clearly he could remember the feel of those long fingers on the side of his face when Tom had installed it.

Long fingers that he now knew had changed him irrevocably.

He closed his eyes tight in an attempt to remember a time when life had been simple. Though, the funny thing about that was that it never _had _ been simple. The only difference now was that he had a choice, whether Dumbledore or the entire wizarding world thought they could make it for him or not.

He picked up the replacement wand and ignited it in his palm. The familiar rush of magic pulled an inaudible sigh from his lips. He knew he needed this. Tom knew he needed this….though _how_ was another matter. All that really mattered was that he was the only one who wanted to nurture that need instead of smother it.

He hadn't felt any pain from his scar in weeks, which he assumed meant Riddle was past the initial anger. But this made him wish he sent the letter of explanation he'd written before classes started. A sad coincidence Dumbledore had been at the owlery the day Harry worked up the nerve to send one. He just smiled at Harry's startled expression with knowing eyes.

"Funny things, owls. They see the world in their lifetimes, but can not share a single detail of their travels."

He hadn't tried to send a letter since, and he knew his own owl would be recognized taking flight from his dorm window.

He really needed to leave the grounds, if only for a short while. Whatever Dumbledore had been planning, it could be affecting Riddle that very second. What if he was destroyed before Harry could speak with him again? He'd have never known what his intentions actually were.

He ignored the irony in _worrying_ about Voldemort being destroyed.

His thumb slid over his wand, as close to a duplicate of Riddle's as one could get. There were several hours before curfew. He slid the wand into his robe and took the invisibility cloak out of his trunk. He decided he wasn't going to wait for tomorrow to be told not to go out again. He slipped it on and closed the curtains on his bed. Hopefully Ron wouldn't try to wake him for dinner.

Harry had done this before – leaving the castle under cloak – though those endeavors hadn't involved a trek further than the Quidditch pitch. The evening was chilly enough for his breath to appear in puffs, but there was thankfully no snow to bear his footprints as he headed through the gates. When the path divided, he took the one leading into the woods and not directly into Hogsmeade. It was dark so he didn't head in very far, just enough that the spark and sound of his apparition wouldn't be heard.

The boy reached out for Riddle's aura, knowing if it was still strong enough he would recognize it immediately, even though he hadn't really felt it in more than two months. When that familiar power washed over him he couldn't help but sigh. He'd been half afraid he wouldn't feel anything.

With enough concentration he was able to focus his apparition on the source of that power. It wasn't something he'd tried before, or even knew was possible, but he had the feeling it would take him exactly where he needed to go.

(chapter division)

A glance over his shoulder would have confirmed it, but it wasn't at all necessary. Riddle felt the searching presence before he arrived. He'd been inexplicably drawn to the boy's power before, but after being away from him for weeks, he nearly trembled with the desire to run his finger through the boy's hair. Though, it wouldn't do to appear weak, especially when he wasn't sure why Harry had come. Dumbledore could be very persuasive – there was know telling what frame of mind the boy was in now.

"I…I got the wand…"

"_And?¢_

He felt the boy's confusion but hadn't yet turned around. Reassurance would come after he understood the boy's intentions.

Harry hesitated and tried to sense Riddle's mood…..anything that would tell how he was taking this. Unfortunately, Riddle wasn't letting him in this time. But he couldn't help but notice the drastic difference in Riddle's strength. He must have been mistaken…

"I know its been a while but I haven't been able to leave or send an owl."

"Until now…"

"I had to. You may have been….well, you're in danger."

He did turn at this, but only to reveal a bemused expression. "Am I?"

Harry hesitated for the second time in as many minutes. He didn't sound like a man who had just been told he was in danger. And was that movement a little shaky, or was Harry imagining things?

"Yes, Dumbledore—"

"—sent me a letter."

"—is planni…..what?"

"A letter. Strange, considering how many years its been since we last spoke to one another."

"The headmaster sent you a letter? When and what for?"

Riddle leaned against a tree casually, though the movement didn't seem as smooth as it should have.

"A month or so back…the time isn't very important. Tell me, boy, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Is Hogwarts 'where you belong?'"

Harry found himself shaking his head. He didn't know _where_ he belonged, but it wasn't Hogwarts – not anymore.

Riddle stared at him for a considerable amount of time, searching. Harry relaxed his mind and let the Dark Lord see for himself. Eventually, Riddle nodded. The motion was slight, and more to himself than Harry. He believed him.

"Albus is convinced otherwise. Or the letter was only meant to convince myself. He was under the impression that I would steal you away again. Though, it seems you've cleared the matter up." Allowing himself a half-smirk, Riddle suddenly righted himself and clutched something – a pouch – to his robes. "I can't speak with you now. Much has changed. But soon I will send for you."

Before Harry could stop him, he disapparated from what he finally recognized as the enchanted forest where they'd gathered the sunspell blossoms. In fact, there were some on the ground where Riddle had been standing.

There was a nagging feeling in Harry's gut. He still had some time before he would be missed. Acting on sheer impulse, he apparated again.

He landed outside of Riddle's mansion. One side of its dark stone face was half covered in rich ivy. Logically, Riddle himself had apparated directly inside the edifice, but wards would only allow Harry this far. He'd begun to consider how he was going to get inside when Riddle's irritated voice filled his head.

"_You're either persistent or deaf, boy. I said that I would send for you."_

The earring stung. Harry almost smirked.

"_I know, but I may not be able to leave again soon. I still need to speak with you._"

There was a lengthy, deliberating pause before the wards shifted with a gust of magic. Reminded of the first time he'd gone down to the cellar, he hurried through the gates and into the house. He followed Riddle's aura to the cellar and like déjà vu the older wizard was there brewing and preparing ingredients. Only this time, there was an unsteady quality to his movements. Harry probably wouldn't have noticed had he not always been so captivated by the wizard's grace.

He eyed the ingredients, realization dawning on him.

"You've started it again…"

Riddle paused at the boy's sudden statement but turned it into a shrug, a motion that shouldn't have caused his figure to sway as it did.

"So it would seem."

"How much…longer do you have left?" he tried tentatively.

"How long do any of us have left? Why are you so concerned, Potter?"

He'd meant to sound harsh but Harry ignored the questions. "What happened to it? Why are yo—"

"Would you really like to know?" Riddle looked sinister, eyes bright as he leaned a little on one of the lab benches. "You'll have to ask him," he claimed, gesturing to the hall with the portrait.

For a confused moment, Harry thought the portrait of Slytherin was who he was referring to. But upon following Riddle's lead, he found that it wasn't Salazar at all that he meant. Said portrait was actually absent altogether. The hall though, took a turn that ended in a few dank stone rooms – cells – two of which held occupants.

Harry sucked in a startled breath when he recognized one as Draco. The boy was alive and conscious, though he regarded the both of them with wary eyes. He seemed relatively unharmed – physically. The other cell's occupant didn't appear so fortunate.

Riddle eyed the unconscious body. "Much has changed…" he whispered in Parseltongue before raising his wand. "_Enervate."_

The person woke and turned over enough that Harry's suspicion was confirmed. Lucius.

"So good of you to join us Lucius. Now do tell Harry why it is that you're here."

Harry eyed Riddle warily, not quite comfortable with the lack of stability in his tone. But Lucius' grunt and sudden movement to clutch his forearm was enough to draw his attention.

"You see Potter, Lucius, once one of my most faithful followers, now needs encouragement to obey my most simple commands. Tell him, Malfoy."

The blonde Death Eater struggled on weak limbs to sit up. This picture of the pureblood clashed horribly with the haughty aristocrat he'd always known.

"H…His potion. I had it…altered."

The Cruciatus curse suddenly wracked his body. Malfoy writhed on the floor while his son looked away.

"Now, Lucius you're leaving out the best part. How is it you accomplished this foolish task?"

He ended the curse so that Lucius might attempt to speak again. The blonde sputtered and heaved.

"An elf. A house…elf."

At his words Harry's eyes widened in surprise. His thoughts immediately flew to Dobby and how Malfoy had abused him. It seemed he taken to using the creatures to do his dirty work. It also may have been what he heard in the cellar the day he was liberated. What else could have gotten past Riddle's wards?

Riddle was smiling – a dangerous expression that only created shadows upon his face. "I've yet to figure out what you planned to do afterwards, Malfoy. Destroy me? Take my place?" Riddle guffawed, turning away briefly. "You may have shown potential as a formidable wizard, but you're foolishly blinded by your ambitions. Did you not think I would know who was responsible?"

Lucius didn't answer. In fact, Harry suspected the two of them had been down this road before in the two months Riddle had likely kept him there.

"And now you've gotten you're son, your only heir mixed in with your ridiculous plan. If I were to kill him right now, who pray tell would carry on the Malfoy line?"

Draco looked as if he was going to be sick.

At their silence Riddle turned away.

"Pathetic."

He began to head back towards the lab proper when Lucius finally spoke.

"I don't suppose you thought I was…alone in my so-called ambitions? If so, you've been as blind as I. If I were you, I'd consider my followers under a brighter light – beginning with Severus Snape."

While Harry nearly choked at the words, Riddle showed no outward reaction to Lucius' insinuation. Instead he reached in his robes and withdrew a book. He tossed it into Lucius' cell and turned to leave for the last time. Harry caught a glimpse of the cover and knew it was _Julius Caesar_.

"I'm always watching, Malfoy. You'd best consider how long you and your son can survive on muggle parchment. You might even read it first and learn from the mistakes of others."

(chapter division)

Harry got back just before curfew with his mind spinning with all he'd learned. He slipped off his cloak as soon as he was back in his room. Ron threw the door open moments later.

"Harry! Merlin, where have you been?"

"Huh?"

"I came down after dinner to see if you wanted to pull a few laps on the pitch. You weren't here."

"Oh, I took a walk after my nap. You know, just around the grounds."

"Then why'd you bring your cloak?"

"I didn't want anyone to bother me if I got in past curfew. I have a lot on my mind."

"No kidding, mate. You've been so quiet lately. You sure we can't do anything for you?"

"No, it's nothing serious. I just needed some time to myself. But what about you? How are things going with…"

He just realized he'd forgotten the Ravenclaw's name, but hoped Ron didn't notice. The redhead's blush said as much.

"Ok, I think. But keep it down! I don't want anyone to know I like Verna until I get her to go out with me."

_Verna, have to remember that…_

"You don't have anything to worry about. You just need to relax."

"I know," Ron began before launching into a spiel of insecurities. Harry's absence was already forgotten.

(chapter division)

Riddle watched the flames dance in the hearth of his study. He felt something calm inside of him at the thought of Harry returning. Dumbledore had stolen him back, but he'd returned.

There was also something different about the boy – a confidence in his actions and a knowledgeable shine to those emerald gems. Hell, even his restraint was much to behold.

And fear; there was no trace of it.

Harry must have done a lot of thinking during those two months, and was no longer seeing the world the way he'd been forced. The headmaster had been clever, but he couldn't fool the boy any longer. Harry would not be controlled.

Riddle was almost proud.

The boy had many questions, and Riddle had explained much about his condition and the affects of missing his doses of the potion were having.. It was so easy to cater to the boy's attentiveness. He'd had Harry's rapt attention, as if he were once again lecturing him on one of his books. He could see the gears turning behind judicious green eyes but had not been able to plunder their depths. He blamed his dwindling strength, but he suspected the boy's defenses had grown. It was just as well, considering how he'd teased him about learning to cloak his thoughts.

He smiled at the thought, one that quickly became a frown when he realized what he'd just done.

There were important issues to be considering like whether or not he would be able to complete the various drafts of his potion before he grew too weak. Not to mention he desperately needed to cleanse his ranks before he moved on the Ministry. Riddle considered starting with Lucius, making it a public affair. It would definitely make an effective reinforcement of his power.

And then there was Snape to deal with. A disappointment really, considering what a brilliant asset he was, but not a surprise. Pettigrew had suggested it years ago. A pity he'd been recently killed by Aurors during one their foolish raids. Riddle was loathe to think he'd have to kill the potions master. After all, Snape worked very closely with the headmaster within Hogwarts' walls.

He just may still serve a purpose.

Riddle ignored the ache in his bones and closed is eyes, feeling his body relax into the chair as if it were a part of him. For the first time in a long time, he willed his body to sleep.

…

A.N.

That should provide enough food for thought. This chapter sure covered a lot of things. Thanx for checkin back now and then…I know the wait was pretty bad this time. But I got it out in time to say Happy New Year!

Thankyou for all of your feedback. I know I've already said this, but its been a tremendous help…in keeping me focused and consistent. And for those of you who seemed to want tom n harry back together, you can rest assured. I'm warning you though, they'll be going through some changes….well, tom to be more specific. Just don't want any rotten tomatoes…..(whistles)

p.s: reloaded this chapter in an attempt to fix the chapter breaks. If anything seems unclear I apologize…but ff net is doing a number on displayable character. Pugh…


	15. Quattuordecim

XIV – Quattuordecim

… …

Harry chewed his lunch mechanically, not really tasting the soup and sandwhiches magically set before him. His friends had gone into Hogsmeade, and as predicted, he'd been asked to stay behind. McGonagal had conveniently arranged for him to coach a few of their newest team members through Quidditch practice that morning, leaving him no choice but to suck it up and go.

Practice wasn't too bad, and it took his mind off of the more stressing details of his life. But sitting there at a half-empty table staring down into golden broth watching carrot chips float to and fro, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.

The recent contact had done his connection to Riddle some good it seemed, for he could feel him again without trying too hard. The accompanying feeling of reassurance was ironic to say the least, but he couldn't help it. After two straight months of forcing himself to participate in the Hogwarts education while secretly yearning for the more raw version the Dark Lord offered, the distant pulse of power was a symbol of hope for the young wizard.

But he couldn't forget that there were others involved. Long after his room mates had gone to bed, Harry had lain on top of the sheets with a headache and a hard-on – the results of fighting to sort through his tangled thoughts. The arousal was easy enough to take care of without waking anyone up, but he was still left with a number of troubling images.

At that very second Lucius and Draco Malfoy rotted in the cellar of Riddle's mansion while he probably thought of more and more creative ways of dealing with them. Did the headmaster know one of his students was being held captive? If he did, he wasn't mentioning it to the student body. Harry vaguely wondered what the headmaster was thinking.

There was also Snape who was in serious trouble if Riddle had taken the hint and realized he was a spy. Harry felt that perhaps he should say something to either Snape or the headmaster – a warning at least. But there was a great chance that they would question the source of the information. And then what would he say? That he paid Lord Voldemort a friendly visit?

His mouth twisted into a partial sneer at the thought. It was probably best that he didn't say anything just yet. Riddle seemed to have enough on his plate at the moment with his own condition. Harry stood up, abandoning his lunch. Eating was a lost cause with so much on his mind, if his cold soup was any indication. He decided he may as well get some of his work done while the tower was relatively empty.

He headed back to get his things but only made it to the stairs when the headmaster called out to him. He waited for the older wizard to reach him, hoping this wouldn't take long.

With his luck, however…

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I thought you might like to join me for an early afternoon tea in my office. It's been some time since we had a nice chat, wouldn't you say?" Kind eyes fell on him from behind half-moon spectacles…too kind to be searching him as they did.

"Yes, it has. That would be great, professor. I'll be right up," he forced out, managing not to frown.

He hurried up to the Gryffindor tower with Dumbledore's grey eyes on his back..

_Great, a chat. That's precisely what I'm in the mood for._

Harry nearly groaned with his annoyance. A 'chat' with the headmaster was never just that. It was usually a carefully staged carefully _worded_ attempt to drag something out of him. He paced the room trying to clear his mind before he could go out there. He wasn't afraid to speak with the headmaster. He had been careful in leaving the grounds and had gotten in before curfew. But he was curious and now anxious to find out what Dumbledore could possibly want and decide to conceal under the guise of a friendly 'chat'.

Harry hurried up to the headmaster's office and let himself in with the current password. The headmaster had tea and scones all set up when he sat down and offered a steaming cup to Harry.

"Lemon-ginger. Am I correct in recalling your liking for it?"

Harry nodded and accepted it, though he didn't drink it. He really preferred to see where this was going first.

Albus didn't seem to take notice, just pat his beard absently.

"Has the term thus far been of any difficulty for you?"

"No, not really. The workload isn't too bad so far."

He nodded pleasantly.

"Given you career after Hogwarts any consideration yet?"

"Not a whole lot."

Instead of berating him on the approaching end of school, the headmaster just smiled and waved away the response.

"I'm sure it'll work itself out in time. You picked a solid selection for your NEWTS. I'm sure many careers would benefit from passing the ones you've chosen."

Harry studied him carefully under the front of being attentive. So far he hadn't asked him anything of any real importance in Harry's opinion.

"In a matter of weeks the holidays will be upon us. Am I correct in assuming you will be remaining here for the break?"

Harry finally did sip the tea, if only to delay his response. He knew the holiday break was only in a couple of weeks, but he hadn't thought about where he'd be spending it. He'd always spent it at Hogwarts alone, or occasionally with Ron and his family. If he stayed here he'd have to be especially careful about going to see Riddle. But he wasn't in the mood or frame of mind to deal with the Dursleys and their lack of tolerance for 'his kind'. At least he could still do magic at Hogwarts. He nodded.

"Ah. Well then that brings us to darker matters."

_And here we go…_

"Remember the day Tonks brought you back to Hogwarts, when I told you that soon Voldemort would no longer be a problem for you?"

"I remember."

"The reason is because of a plan set into motion by Severus and one of Voldemort's Death Eaters – Lucius Malfoy. As you may already be aware, Voldemort was relying on the effects of a special restorative draught to stay alive and grow stronger. Without the draught, we theorized his condition would weaken to the point of destruction, or enough to make him vulnerable to attack. But we have no way of knowing for sure how he is progressing…or digressing, rather."

He eyed the boy pointedly, communicating his meaning, or at least part of it, without saying it.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Do? Oh, dear boy, I only wondered if you might be able to tell me if Voldemort still thrives. I do believe that provides you with a connection of sorts to one another," he elaborated, indicating the scar hidden beneath thick bangs.

"Oh. He's still alive, if that's what you mean. But I can't tell how strong he is, or anything like that. What do you plan to do if he is vulnerable?" Harry kept his voice amazingly steady. It wasn't a lie though. He could barely feel Riddle from inside the castle.

Dumbledore seemed satisfied.

"We may not have to do much thanks to the avarice of his own brood. But there are many ways of defeating him once he reaches that stage. Until we are sure when that is, however, we must exercise as much caution as ever. This, you must understand, is why you've been kept at Hogwarts on days like these. You are one of a scant few wizards powerful enough to face Voldemort and live to tell of it. It is only logical that he'll be wanting you back in his possession if not dead."

Harry tried not to wince at the headmaster's words.

_So he _does_ think Riddle will 'steal me away' again._

."I suppose. Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you got to speak with…with Voldemort?"

The headmaster's brows shot up at the question but he seemed to be thinking.

"Many years. I believe it was around the time of your birth. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it just seems odd to...you know, be fighting someone and not really know why they're doing what they're doing."

"What makes you think none of us don't know why Voldemort does what he does?"

Harry realized he needed to tread carefully in this line of conversation so as not to arouse any more suspicions. He kept his tone light and curious.

"I dunno. It's just that, he's done so many 'bad' things – murders and torture. For a while it was easy to say that he just hated muggles."

"But?" he prompted.

"But there hasn't been any muggle kidnapping or torture in ages, at least none linked to Voldemort. It's like he's changed goals."

"New goals or not, a wizard who's heart has grown cold musn't be allowed to live among others."

"But what if…what if he's changed?"

The headmaster eyed him squarely, this time over his glasses.

"What makes you suspect he's changed?

Riddle had claimed he'd have acted differently in the past knowing then what he knew now. How differently, Harry wondered. Suddenly he needed some space and alone time to ponder this.

With a shrug he set the cup down with a soft clink. "Only being curious, sir. I just wish there was an answer written somewhere nice and clear. Thank you for the tea, and the chat Professor. I really should get to that homework now."

"Ah yes, the charm of education. Yes, you best get on with it then. And thank _you_ for the talk Harry. You're a most stimulating individual. Please don't hesitate to see me if you ever need to talk again."

"Yes, of course. I'll…see you around I guess."

As soon as he got to the gargoyle and out of the office Harry broke into a jog towards the tower. After a moment's thought he headed down to the kitchens. He may after all be needing a good snack after that talk. Though he hated to admit it, he was feeling slightly more grounded.

-o-

The blade slid easy over his right arm – too easy.

Riddle winced as his hand slipped and he made a larger gash than he intended. Harry's arrival must have distracted him, and while he had sent for the boy, he'd been expecting him later that evening. Wordlessly, he shifted the wards, and soon could feel Harry inside the mansion.

He collected his own blood into glass and whispered the usual healing charm.

Nothing happened.

With a frown he repeated it, thought he only appeared to have slowed the bleeding. Harry bounded down the steps of the cellar and paused in the doorway at the sight of Riddle holding a bloodied arm. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Wait for me in my study."

But the boy was too curious, or stubborn for that He came over, frowning at the wound. "What were you trying to do?"

"Potter, I said wait in my stu—" He was cut off by the calmly spoken charm. The wound closed so quickly he might have imagined it. Harry eyed him squarely.

"You couldn't, could you?"

It was more of a statement than a question, but he was in no way mocking the older wizard. Riddle wasn't sure how to respond.

"When will the next dose be ready?" he asked after Riddle's silence.

Riddle turned away, picking up the glass of blood and measuring out the proper amount. "Soon. My blood must meld with the other ingredients," he answered softly. He didn't like it – needing Potter's help. _Needing_ anything. To this, Harry was not blind.

The younger wizard observed him until he turned around. Riddle gestured towards the stairs. "Shall we?" he drawled with more than a little sarcasm. They headed up to Riddle's study where the Dark Lord eased himself into one of the armchairs by the hearth. Harry lit it effortlessly.

"Nice to see the time away hasn't had any negative effects on your skills. Been practicing at Hogwarts?"

"Not much. I'm not too sure how anyone would react if I got caught." Harry leaned against the desk, and the wood pressing into his lower back instantly reminded him of being hotly pressed down onto it, Riddle's hand on his cock.

His member stirred at the memory. Harry pushed off the desk, deciding a change of position would help him focus. He ended up at Riddle's side. With him in the chair, Harry could see the top of his head and the shiny waves his hair created en route to it's ponytail. It was suddenly so fascinating in its trivialness that he almost reached out to touch it.

Riddle made some belated noise of agreement while he faced the hearth thoughtfully. He absently smoothed a hand over his hair, jarring Harry out of his semi-stupor.

"So, did you want to talk?" the boy asked.

"More or less."

"Good, because I've been doing some thinking."

"I can imagine. Go on."

"All right." He stood in front of Riddle so that he could see his face. Riddle watched him in turn, scarlet jewels that never failed, it seemed, to make his breath quicken. There was a difference now, though. He was no longer staring at Harry the Captive, or Harry the Inferior. His eyes now rested on Harry The Adult, who was there of his own volition. And adult to adult – wizard to wizard, Riddle waited for Harry to speak.

"I think I understand it now."

One of Riddle's brows rose, but he allowed Harry to continue.

"You…me. Our histories. There's just so much more to this than what the world sees…than what _I_ saw." He looked away briefly, his voice dropping. "You murdered my parents. It was wrong, and evil, and unfair, but…had you not, then I'd have never gotten this scar, a symbol of your transferred power. The scar…the wands..." he paused, holding up his own wand. "I'm a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor, and you're the heir of Salazar Slytherin – polar opposites. But we're _connected._ We're powerful enough to kill each other, but I really don't think that's what fate intended. Take out your wand."

Riddle pulled out his own wand, studying it as he had millions of times before his eyes fell on Harry once more. Harry aimed it at Riddle, who only tensed slightly, and flicked it just as he had done in Olivander's shop the day he purchased it. White magic flew out of the tip only to be caught and absorbed into the tip of Riddle's wand.

"You figured out after kidnapping me that I'd make a better ally than an enemy, but it goes beyond that. They're perfect balances of each other. _We_ balance each other." His eyes shone with the excitement of sharing this with someone. "I'm willing to bet anything that we were meant to be united. The only thing I haven't figured out is why."

Riddle couldn't stop the grin.

'_Think of the wands…'_

It was exactly what Salazar had been trying to tell him. Of course, he'd figured most of that out by now. But the boy was very wise to have made sense of it on his own. And balance…that put a slightly different spin to the tale.

Obviously not expecting Riddle's response to his little revelation, Harry frowned.

"What? You thought of all this already?"

"I've obviously tossed around the idea of us not killing each other. I haven't forgotten the way our wands reacted to one another on the night of my return. But it does leave one to wonder why exactly we've been bound to each other."

'_Have you seen what will happen?'_

'_I see everything.'_

After only a moment's hesitation, Harry sighed. "Maybe we could…you know, ask.."

"Ask who?"

"Slytherin."

Riddle stared at him blankly for a split second before his expression began to darken.

"Tom, relax. He called me to him…one night while I was staying here. He spoke to me."

"…And?"

"And he gave me the impression that he may know exactly why this is happening. Do you still have the portrait? I didn't see it in the cellar."

Riddle sighed, running the hand over his hair again. There was nothing to be gained by denying it. "Yes. I moved it because I preferred not to have the Malfoy's see it. It's upstairs."

Harry grimaced. _The Malfoys…_

"They're still down there?"

"And?"

Harry sighed. "You…nevermind. We ought to pay Slytherin a visit. But not now – I need to go back."

"Ah. Even so, he doesn't always appear. He may choose not to see us."

"I think he will. We are very close to having this all figured out." Harry closed the distance between them. "Next week begins our holiday vacation; I'll come back then. But was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Just a question, but I believe I already know the answer." Riddle's scarlet gaze traveled up Harry's body, so close to him now that his scent filled the older wizard's nostrils. Harry's breath quickened.

"What question?" he asked softly.

"Only if you intended to continue your instruction with me. But, I get the feeling that your thirst for knowledge is far from being sated."

"Yes, that is if you're still…up to it."

Riddle guffawed, clearly annoyed that Harry thought him incapable in some way. "I can assure you there is much I can still teach you. Not to mention that the next dose of the draught will be ready very soon. When you return during your break, be prepared to work, Harry."

Harry smiled and Riddle found one of the corners of his mouth being tugged mysteriously upwards. The boy was infectious.

He hesitated a moment in front of him before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of Riddle's mouth. A small jolt went through him at the contact, and one look at Riddle confirmed his suspicion that he'd felt it as well.

"_You're right, Harry. We _will_ be paying him a visit."_

The boy left without another word. Riddle followed his aura until it left the estate. In the silence left by the younger wizard, Riddle continued his gaze into the hearth as his hand rose to the spot where Potter's lips had touched him. He had to grip the chair to stop his other hand from trembling.

Clear. It was now so clear that everything had changed between them. The boy knew he wasn't as strong as he was before. But he hadn't treated it as a weakness. He'd shown…_something._ He wasn't yet sure what to make of it, but he…he trusted the boy.

_To transform that fear into trust…_

The feeling clashed terribly with every fiber of his being, but he couldn't shake it. Harry trusted him. It had been his main goal in keeping Harry, and he'd succeeded without even realizing it. The only thing he hadn't foreseen was him trusting the boy in return.

Yes. Harry would make a better ally than an enemy. And not just any ally – an ally he trusted.

A.N:

How's that for update time? (insert Cheshire grin) Srry about the 'rotten tomatoes' scare. I just wasn't sure how everyone would react if it seemed like tom was softening up. He's not…exactly. I just wanted to twirk the way he interacted with Harry, given his weakening state and only Harry to trust.

Sitting here on my ass has given me plenty of time to write, hence the update. This chapter was actually written in three days, but some of the conversations needed work. Really tricky delivering plot in dialogue…without just spelling it out, that is. (that make any sense?) Well, hope you're still enjoying. Thanx for the feedback! Emails especially.


	16. Quindecim

XV - Quindecim

0-

The week went by in a blur for Harry. Many of his professors, as always, decided the week before break was the perfect time to throw exams. Studying for them took up more of his time than he anticipated, and when the break came, he found the sudden wash of free time intoxicating. He almost slept through Christmas, but the parcel-laden owl at the window wouldn't have it.

Both Hermione and Ron had gone home for the break. Ron had offered for Harry to stay with his family again, but Harry declined for what must have been the first time. Before the redhead could ask questions he simply explained he had some things to catch up on and would be needing the library. Adding that Verna would be visiting the Weasleys, he insisted that it was fine. Ron didn't argue.

Harry let the owl in. It was an unfamiliar barn owl, likely one of the Wizard post's. It carried two packages with letters strapped to them.- one from each of his best friends. He suddenly felt relieved for not taking the easy way out this year and just sending them both sweets and charmed holiday cards, throwing in some muggle nic nacs for Ron and a mystery novel for Hermione. Deciding to go down to the common room, he took his packages and chose an armchair near the fire.

There was no one left from Gryffindor besides himself so the quiet was expected. The tree had a few small packages under it, from the Weasleys no doubt. He opened Ron's gift first - a pack of chocolate frogs and some sort of glass orb.

_Harry, _

_I hope you aren't too lonely during the holidays. Just in case, here's something to keep you occupied (actually Fred's idea so don't kill me). To make it work, blow it a kiss!_

_Happy Christmas_

_Your pal,_

_Ron_

Suddenly apprehensive, he did what the letter suggested and blew the orb a kiss. It opened into a platform in his hand and the image of a witch stripping appeared. She winked at him and continued on still he managed to close it again.

Geeze.

Deciding Hermione's gift couldn't be nearly as bizarre as Ron's had been, he thumbed open the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Looking back on every Christmas we've celebrated, I just realized every gift from me was designed to either quench your thirst for Quidditch or aid in your studies. This year being our last Christmas at Hogwarts I thought to try something different. I charmed it to work without any electricity. I do hope you enjoy._

_Best wishes,_

_Hermione_

Interest thoroughly peeked, he tore through the wrapping to find a portable CD player and a CD on top. Classical piano tunes from the look of it.

He felt a pang at the thought of his friends, with whom he used to be inseparable. He'd changed so much in a matter of months that he hardly knew how to act so as not to disturb the friendships. If only he could tell them what was going on with himself and Riddle.

Now that he thought about it, that was a silly thing to want when he hardly knew what was going on himself. It wasn't as if they didn't know he was connected to Riddle, even though it was sort of a distantly understood knowledge that they often chose to ignore. It wasn't something Ron or Hermione preferred to reflect on, and understandably so. But now Harry wished he could discuss it with them. He missed being able to bounce ideas off of them, especially Hermione who had always been open to a challenge.

If he were to explain the situation at this point, she was likely to think he was under _Imperious._

Sufficiently reminded of why he had been so secretive about this to begin with, he put his gifts away, and set out to comb the library for more on wand-less magic and mental shields.

o-

For once Riddle was waiting for Harry in the empty ballroom when he arrived the day after Christmas. Harry hadn't told him he'd be coming that day so it came as a bit of a surprise when he appeared to be expecting him.

He paused in the doorway, eyes falling on the wizard's form at one the tall windows. The outer robe had been discarded again, much to Harry's pleasure, allowing the sun to outline his body in stark contrast.

Hidden from his position, Riddle smirked. The boy's poorly concealed pleasure could be easily sensed.

Harry made it three steps into the room when a white blast of magic hit him square in the chest. Sprawled on his back he coughed, trying to will air back into his lungs.

"Just as I thought. Had that been the killing curse, you'd be dead," Riddle's voce drifted to him monotonously.

Harry wheezed and groaned his way slowly to his feet. Giving his hair a toss he knew would sufficiently flash his scar, he smirked.

"Somehow I doubt that."

And so began their dueling session.

It would be pointless to say Riddle's condition had somehow improved. He literally pelted Harry with spells as if his power hadn't been steadily dissipating for two months. This fact had him distracted enough to give Riddle more of an advantage than he could properly defend himself against at the moment. Landing sprawled on his back for the third time in under an hour, he held up his palm.

"_Wait, stop. I think I'm…rusty or something."_

"'_Rusty' isn't an option," _he replied tersely, but he sent no more spells.

At the sound of boots clicking their way towards him, Harry rolled over and got to his feet. He could sense Riddle's power in its familiar massive quantities and he just had to ask.

"You drink a cauldron full of that draught?"

Riddle raised a brow at the near exasperation in Harry's tone.

"No, I did not. I did, however, stumble upon a more…_potent_ version of said draught. My complete restoration will be achieved in a matter of days." He turned and headed for the door with Harry in toe.

He was surprised to say the least, but it certainly shed light on the dramatic change in Riddle's condition.

"And then what? The world ends?" he asked lightly as they descended the stairs.

The Dark Lord released a short laugh. "And what would be the point of that? It reeks of muggle fiction – the villain who seeks control of the world only to destroy it."

Harry had been joking of course. But now that he thought about it, it was a fairly valid question.

"I don't know. You haven't actually told me _why_ you wished to return to power."

Riddle turned around at this with such abruptness Harry stumbled. For all the restraint in his voice, he looked rightly irritated.

"What would you have done, Potter? Would you have settled for the state of disgraceful weakness forced upon you? Requiring a _reason_ to reclaim your true power?"

Harry winced at the use of his surname.

"I wasn't questioning why you'd want your power back. I just wonder what you plan to do once you have it…"

Riddle turned down an unfamiliar hallway once they got to the third floor, sufficiently delaying his response until they arrived at their destination. He'd brought them to a storage room of sorts, with many items littered about covered in dust cloth.

"I suppose we'll see," he muttered, pulling the covering off the portrait of Salazar.

And Harry was sufficiently distracted from expecting a response by the sight of the vacant portrait. It was odd to see it in a room with proper lighting and he wondered how and if they would get Salazar to appear.

Riddle said and did nothing. He eyed the portrait as if simultaneously anxious and skeptical that Slytherin would even show his face. Harry waited as well, that is until impatience inevitably set in.

"Is there something we should be doing or saying to get his attention?"

Riddle's flinch and the annoyed expression that followed was the only indication he'd been startled.

"I never have before."

Wondering how many times Riddle and Slytherin had actually spoken, Harry moved closer to the portrait.

"Slytherin, are you there?" he tried feeling extremely silly. If Riddle agreed, he wasn't saying it.

There was no response, visible or otherwise so Harry moved on to Parseltongue. He repeated himself and in a matter of seconds the black surface of the portrait swirled and a face took form.

Bingo.

He stifled the smug feeling that arose from figuring out something that Riddle hadn't. He knew without looking that Riddle's thin lips were pressed in into a firm line. The visage of the portrait watched them expectantly before Riddle took the initiative.

"We require answers."

Slytherin raised a brow much the way Riddle frequently did so.

"Do we? Then I imagine you've uncovered a milestone of sorts."

"So it would seem. Why are we here?"

"I don't know," he replied challengingly.

There was a bank of silence after the utterly anticlimactic response. When it seemed neither Harry or Riddle knew what to say Slytherin continued.

"You'll find I know very little about how and why your purpose unfolds. I've only ever seen what was obvious."

"That isn't what you told me," Harry reminded him. "You said that you knew what would happen."

"I told you no such thing. I merely gave you the bait required to remain on task. And _this_ indicates that you have."

Before Harry could react with the indignation he was beginning to feel, Riddle touched his arm lightly. "On what task?" He questioned softly.

"You both have a purpose, as I'm sure you've realized. _What_ it is exactly is something for the two of you to figure out, that is, after you…" He stopped abruptly, ending with a chuckle. "You have no further use for me."

Harry wasn't quite sure how long the exchange had taken, but Riddle's hand lingered on his arm until after the face disappeared from the canvas. Long enough, in fact, for the warmth to finally start making its way through the thick cloth of his muggle sweatshirt. He stared numbly at the smooth dark surface that had once held Slytherin's face.

"What do you suppose he was going to say?"

"I'm not sure. Though, _he_ found it amusing enough," he replied with a small amount of irritation. To emphasize this he raked a hand through his wavy locks and tossed the dust cloth back over the portrait. Just as he turned away and headed for the door a shudder ran its course from his head to his feet.

Before Harry could be sure he even saw it, Riddle was moving again in assured strides.

"Wait, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Do? You heard him. We must 'remain on task'…find our purpose," he growled out in what Harry now realized was angry sarcasm. A slight feeling of light-headedness was beginning to develop as Harry hurried to match his strides.

"I'm sure he gave us a clue of come kind. It'll come to us-"

Riddled whirled on him, breaking his quick strides.

"You misunderstand, Potter. We don't have _time_ for these games. There must be order in the wizarding world, and I will be the one to establish it, purpose or no purpose."

"And just where am I in your grand scheme?"

There was a moment of quiet during which Riddle regarded him through garnet eyes. For some reason, they seemed much brighter than Harry remembered.

"You're always welcome to join me Harry. It's why I've been training you, after all."

…_been training you for a reason Potter._

Well, that was no surprise. But if only he knew what Riddle was going to do to achieve "order", or what Riddle's interpretation of it even was.

"I don't think I ever really had a choice, considering this whole bond thing. The 'joining' part was bound to happen sooner or later."

Riddle opened his mouth to reply but he paused, an almost alarmed expression on his face.

"You're eyes, Harry…"

"What?"

A warm sensation crept up his spine and vanished as soon as it had come, leaving him with a shudder that had him grabbing the wall of the hallway for support. When he collected himself, Riddled appeared to be breathing heavily, palms trembling.

"Tom…what's happening?"

Riddle's eyes were unmistakably glowing now, like hot embers, and Harry could almost hear his own head spinning. He was suddenly afraid and thought he might faint.

"It's Slytherin," Riddle managed before falling to one knee with a gasp.

"Tom…"

Harry reached for him and nearly blacked out the moment his hand contacted his shoulder.

"_He's done something. I felt it when he left the port—"_

The mental stream ended in a groan of sorts that Harry was too dazed to fully note. He could feel something uncurling inside of him, and before he could even find his voice again, Riddle's mouth was covering his with a voracity previously unimagined.

At first he knelt there on the floor with the older wizard, as Riddle gripped his arms painfully. After some interminable amount of time he started kissing back with equal fervor. The fact that it was happening on the floor of Riddle's hallway didn't seem to be an issue of any importance, only that Riddle's tongue kept doing what it was doing to the inside of his mouth.

The sound of ripping fabric drew his attention, but only long enough for him to realize it was his shirt being torn off and that it could be done quicker if he helped. Riddle tossed his outer robe off in a flurry of movement and pushed Harry onto his back. He started working on Riddle's shirt, fighting with the tiny black buttons with burning fingers that moved completely of their on volition. But Riddle was ever out of patience it seemed and ended up half ripping the thing off himself. The skin to skin contact made colors dance in both of their visions.

"_Gods, Tom do something…"_

Harry hadn't been aware that he was fully hard until the moment Riddle's erection pressed against his through their trousers. This just wouldn't do.

Following Harry's request without a choice it seemed, Riddle began yanking down Harry's muggle jeans almost violently. Harry fumbled for the zipper, sufficiently speeding up the process and then reaching for Riddle's waistband as well. Just as the last articles of clothing were removed , Riddle pushed Harry's legs apart and began searching for his entrance. When he found it, it was no time before he managed to replace his hands with his swollen member. He didn't even bother with preparation, just entered him at once.

Harry's scream was a minor detail in both of their minds. The moment of union brought on a mental disturbance so great neither of them could think or speak. They felt something break inside, like a stone thrown into a window.

Riddle's teeth were in Harry's shoulder, and the latter was crying out over and over again for it to come harder and faster than was possible. It hurt like nothing he imagined before, but he couldn't formulate the word 'stop', or many other words for that matter – not that he would if he was capable. It was all so intense and strange and mind-blowing, and he didn't care for understanding it so long as it didn't stop.

The carpet was rubbing hotly against is bare back now, and if he could think at all he might have imagined it to be red when they were done. But as it were, he had more pressing matters to concern himself with, like what was going to happen when the speeding freight train inside of him finally reached the end of it's destination.

Riddle was saying something telepathically along the lines of "can't stop" but he never fully got the thought out before their climaxes erupted. 'Erupted' would have been an understatement in Harry's opinion, but while the both of them lay there unconscious, it would suffice.

Harry came to first. He remembered nothing of the previous events or where he even was. There was soft carpet under his back and legs, which led him to realize he was naked.

_Don't panic. This will eventually make sense._

He tried sitting up and a sharp soreness made itself known somewhere inside his rear. Eyes now wide and gasping, his hand fell on his discarded glasses. He tried to ascertain his location - pale green walls, white trim...

"Tom…"

The moment the name left his lips images flooded his mind. Walking down this hall and talking. Where they'd been walking from was still in the air, but they had been in this hall, of Riddle's home.

But why was he naked, with…

_Shit._

There was the unmistakable presence of dried come on his stomach. Before he could fully process the implications of it, a groan filtered into his thoughts from his left. Riddle lay on his side, in an similar state of undress, though he was slowly managing to sit up.

"Tom?"

He didn't answer at first. Just rubbed insistently at his eyes as if the fact that he was naked posed no issue of interest.

"Harry, can you remember when you asked me what more there was to sex?"

Was he crazy? He couldn't barely even remember anything before the past five minutes.

"Yeah."

"That was it."

Harry opened his mouth to say something and immediately lost his train of thought. His head hurt, and his body ached terribly. He just wanted to go drown himself in the Gryffindor showers.

"If that was sex. then how come I can barely remember it? And why the hell am I in so much pain?" he asked in exasperation. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the mess that his hair had become.

Riddle was pulling on his outer robe over his naked skin when he paused, an almost uncomfortable look passing over his face. "You're in pain?" he asked, ignoring Harry's questions.

"Yeah, when I try to—"

"Wait…move your hand…"

"Huh?"

"You _hand_. Move it back."

Nervous now, Harry did as Riddle told him, his chest tightening at Riddle's blank expression.

"Your scar is gone."

"My what?"

"The _scar_, dammit. It's no longer there."

Harry's eyes went wide as he felt for it and realized that it was indeed absent.

"My god, what does that mean?" And then another realization. "Dumbledore…he'll notice right away, won't he?"

Tom was pacing now, trying hard to formulate an explanation. He'd felt something pass over him, like a spell, as Salazar left the portrait, but he couldn't really put a finger on the sensation. Then out in the hall they started talking, and Harry's eyes were glowing. He felt weak, enough to bring him to his knees and then when Harry touched him, his mind went blank.

Sex. They had sex and it changed _something_ about them.

"Dumbledore may be the least of your worries if we don't figure out what's changed and why. Do you feel any different?"

"Besides the fact that my body aches terribly? Not a whole lot. There's a pulsing in my head, like a headache ready to start , and my skin tingles a little, but nothing else." As Riddle considered the response Harry questioned him. "What about you? Your eyes did something befor—_shit_, your eyes!"

"What?"

"They're different. They…aren't red anymore, at least not nearly as much as before."

"Slytherin had to have done something. I could sense it as he left."

He continued to pace until the fact that Harry was still naked and just making his way gingerly off the floor became apparent.

"Wait a moment."

Riddle approached him in two strides and rested a hand on his shoulder. A shudder passed through both of their bodies, but before he could even mention it, he was suddenly in Riddle's study.

"Sit," Riddle ordered, indicating one of the armchairs. His voice was oddly quiet.

Another moment brought Harry's clothes, and a muttered charm mended the tears. Harry had managed to sit in one of the chairs, more than a little distracted by the feel of the upholstery on his bare skin. He shivered, but was still far too out of sorts to bother lighting the hearth. He wondered about the feeling he got when Riddle touched him, like the jolt he felt the last time he was there. He knew Riddle must have felt it as well. There was something obviously different about Riddle's aura but he couldn't quite place it. It filled his head and pulsed the way it used to, but it was somehow different. It pulled at his in a way it never had before. Did Riddle feel the same about his own aura?

The sweatshirt dropped in his lap, startling him lightly, followed by his pants. He'd begun to shrug on his abused clothing when a softly spoken charm wound its way around his body. He could feel whatever damage was done to his arse being mended and he leaned back in the chair.

He could hear Riddle moving around, going into the adjoin bedroom and returning fully dressed once again. He noted that Harry had stopped mid dressing and was simply resting in the chair, trousers strewn across his lap.

"There will be….some soreness. But only for a little while after the charm has worked its course."

Harry nodded, not sure whether Riddle had seen it or not. He was simply so tired and confused. He managed to get his trousers on before slumping back in the chair and running a hand through the mess of locks once more. Then his eye caught the window and the clock.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"The time," he replied as if that explained anything.

Riddle glanced briefly at the clock and made some noise of understanding.

"Merlin, I hope no one came to check on me. I've been here since breakfast was over," he groaned, eyeing the clock with dread. It was just a little past 8pm.

Harry got up and made for the door, aware of the fact the whatever healing charm Riddle had used it had worked wonders on the aches.

"Harry…" Riddle began hesitantly, a tone Harry wasn't quite used to hearing from him. "That…wasn't how I _intended_ for it to happen…"

Harry froze for a moment, realizing what Riddle was referring to.

"I know. There must be reason for it, though. We'll find it."

Riddle nodded and waited for the click of the door to release the breath he'd been holding. He remembered what had happened hours ago but as if he'd been watching from the outside. It was a disgusting feeling, to not be in control of oneself, especially in sex. And Harry…no preparation. The whole idea reeked of rape, despite not being able to recall Harry ever telling him to stop, mentally or otherwise.

_Gods, so tight. . ._

He felt different. His hands and skin tingled lightly, and his body was jolted by _something_ whenever he touched the boy.

_Merlin, Salazar had better have a superior reason for this._

0-

AN:

This is just a warning that there might be some interesting mistakes in this chapter. I changed it a number of ways and though I've re-read it, there may still be residual phrases left from a revision or two. I'll catch them another time I'm sure, but for now I'm pressed for time. Yes, it took far too long to get this out, but the reviews and emails are encouraging, and I've been making time to work on it. (posted this chapter in lecture btw!) Sorry if anyone thought I gave up on the fic…I'm doing what I can here. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	17. Sedecim

XVI

…

The wards guarding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were strong and complex if anyone ever stopped to consider them. The magnitude of protective wards that could cover the entire castle was such that they could only be sustained by old magic emitted from within the structure itself, and could only be guided and directed by a wizard of substantial experience. But they were complex in that they were fitted to the auras of every single member of the staff and student body. They could even be adjusted to accommodate visitors to the school. After all, how else would the inhabitants be protected from the invasion of unknown threats? The only exceptions seem to be animagi or magical creatures, which posed a rare threat in that animagi were registered with the Ministry of Magic.

The wards weren't perfect, but they were undeniably strong.

The wards were strong enough, in fact, that Harry could feel their refusal of him the moment he entered the gates and set foot on the grounds. He paused, not having expected the raw discomfort of approaching unfriendly wards. Why did he feel them now? In the six years he'd managed at Hogwarts, he never had to give wards a conscious thought.

Now fighting panic, he continued on towards the front steps until he could feel the actual perimeter of the wards a few yards in front of him. He didn't have to try crossing them to know it wouldn't be pleasant.

It was dark, and the wind was biting, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was noticed dithering around in front of the school's front steps. There was really nothing else for him to do but wait. Wards weren't something you could really sneak through.

While he knew it was only a matter of time, that still didn't calm his nerves at the sight of the headmaster and Snape at the top of the front steps. He tried not to look guilty or afraid, and just waited as the headmaster calmly descended the steps. The elderly wizard stopped just behind the wards which Harry knew was his intention. He motioned for Harry to come forward a few more steps and then held out his hand in a halting gesture. Severus watched them from the top of the steps, wand in hand but not aimed.

"Why did you not tell me, Harry?" The headmaster's tone was even and disciplinary.

He thought to ask what it was Dumbledore was referring to, but the under-the-brow glare forced him to reconsider.

"I...I couldn't, sir," he answered, still not completely sure how much the headmaster knew. Usually it was safe to assume he knew everything, but this was by far a more complex situation than his past infractions.

The headmaster nodded as if it were nothing he hadn't already known.

'I'll need you to remain still for a moment," he claimed, taking two steps forward and leaving the protection of the wards. Harry took an unconscious step back, halting the headmaster's advance. He spoke calmly as one might address a hysterical person. "I need only to scan your body for traces of dark influence. Understandably so, yes?"

It made sense. He'd just come back from seeing Lord Voldemort, whether the headmaster knew that exactly or not. He eyed Snape quickly, noting that while he hadn't moved from his position, he still held his wand deceptively at his side. Harry took a cautioned step forward forcing himself to breathe calmly.

The headmaster raised his wand and a muttered a spell that wrapped its way around his body, lingered, and then dissipated.

"There, not so painful, hm?" He turned back towards the school. "Come, the wards will mind you now. We will talk in my office." He followed the older wizard into the school aware of Snape's presence behind him.

o-

Lucius Malfoy was dead by midnight. That is, Riddle had finally taken it upon himself to lift the sustaining spells on Lucius' person and blast him into oblivion. He was in no true living condition, seeing as how he hadn't eaten or drank in at least a week. His son, lying wretched in the corner of his cell was unconscious, in a similar state of malnourishment.

As many times as he'd done so in the past, Riddle liked to imagine that he wasn't one to act out in anger. Instead, he imagined he was at all times collected and rational - except maybe just a few moments ago.

Malfoy's death was by no means an idea sprung of spontaneous malicious intent. He'd headed down to the cellar some time after Harry's departure with the intent of killing Malfoy, both junior and senior. After all, it had to be done and with his mind befuddled and a rare headache beginning, a nice fulfilling death might be what he needed to put him into perspective. But upon finding that Malfoy no longer had the Mark, and that he for some reason was unable to contact his followers on any level, the confused and angry tension within him swelled.

And so Lucius was no more.

However, the deed was far less satisfying than he'd anticipated. He wasn't entirely sure why he ever thought killing a starved and near-dead Lucius would be fulfilling, but it only left a bitter taste on his tongue. He thought it might be from the idea of taking his anger at the missing Mark out on the man, but of course Malfoy was going to die regardless. Draco, however, he considered for a long moment. Given the ill results of killing Lucius, there was little point in ending the life of another starved and near-dead Malfoy that may or may not have had a thing to do with Lucius' betrayal.

"_Sanocorpus regera_"

Color and form instantly returned to Draco's body.

He decided he was going to release the boy. He wasn't quite sure where this capacity for mercy was coming from but he wasn't much in the mood to dwell on it. Unlocking the cell, he activated a levitation charm and moved the boy outside the manor where he sent him back to the Malfoy estate.

It was freezing out, and the moon highlighted his smoky breath in the air. Deciding the numbing sensation of biting winds was a good thing, he lingered outside. His hands trembled and twitched minutely; it had never actually stopped since he'd woken on the floor in his hallway some hours ago. In a way it reminded him of how little control he now had over the situation, if he ever had any. Somehow he got the feeling his control had been an illusion, one that could be cleared away at anytime by some unseen force. After all, with the Mark gone and his connection to it, he had no immediate way of contacting his Death Eaters. And yet, what would he tell them if he could? That he was working WITH The-Boy-Who-Lived as opposed to against him and everything he stood for.

"_TOM!"_

The scream startled him so severely he made some sound of surprise that he was at once glad there was no one around to hear.

"_Merlin, what is it boy?"_

"_Help me! Five Aurors, not a lot of time."_

"_Where are you? Hogwarts?"_

"_The Forbidden Forest. Hurry!"_

Had he stopped to realize it, Riddle might have noted that he didn't even hesitate or consider Harry's call to be some kind of trap. His own Death Eaters wouldn't have gotten his help that quickly. He disapparated and reappeared somewhere in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, wary of what may have been waiting for him when he got there, He could hear sounds of running - several sets of footsteps. Then he felt Harry's power, drumming and heightened in his state of anxiety. It was a matter of minutes before he nearly ran into him.

"Geeze, what took you so long?"

"What's going on?"

"I'll explain later. But they're tracking the dark magic on my body."

"But there is no…"

Harry turned so that Riddle might see the garnet jewel sparkling in his ear. He'd actually forgotten about it.

"I can't remove it. You have to, quickly."

There were shouts and the footsteps turned to their direction. Riddle ignored them and cupped Harry's ear in his palm. With a whispered charm the stud vanished. Without removing his hand, he apparated them back to the manor.

o-

"I guess he knew about it all along," Harry concluded after explaining the events of the previous hours. Riddle nodded, not at all surprised. It was only a matter of time before the ancient wizard discovered Harry's visits and took an interest. It was clever to track the presence of dark magic on Harry's person, though the wards on the manor prevented any sort of tracking spell from ascertaining its location.

Riddle summoned himself a glass of brandy, and after giving the frayed young man a considering glance he summoned one for him as well. While the trembling of his own hands had gone down to a mere unsteadiness, he could see Harry was still shaken by minute tremors. The surprise of being met by Aurors at his school was likely still fresh, as was his escape into the Forbidden Forest.

Harry took a small sip from the glass, acquainting himself with the taste of real alcohol. It was heavy and sweet on his tongue, and it distracted him long enough for Riddle to light the hearth and take a seat near it. Harry stared down into his glass for long moments before downing the rest of its contents in one shuddering gulp. Riddle was suddenly glad to have only given him a small amount. He wasn't so sure getting the boy drunk would help figure out their situation, and when Harry wordlessly held out his glass for more, Riddle waved a hand, causing it to disappear. At the younger wizard's distraught expression he beckoned him over, and then guided him down onto his lap.

"Alcohol is not what you need," he claimed, slipping his fingers into the boy's hair. The effect for both of them was immediate; Harry's body melted into it, and finally, the trembling ceased.

And Harry could agree, maybe alcohol wasn't what he needed.

"I can't go back there. They think I've…"

"Given yourself over to the Dark Lord? Well," he began leaning back, "I can't imagine why they should think so,

He let out a snort of sorts before falling silent. Riddle had established a thoughtful and relaxing petting rhythm when Harry suddenly asked, "Why do you trust me?" Into the silence that followed he continued, "Not even the headmaster is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt anymore."

He could feel Harry's uncertainty as if it were something tangible. It was a good question considering his own followers had tried to destroy him. Just as he'd gone to Harry's rescue without giving it a thought, it wasn't really something he could explain.

"I highly doubt at this point you can find a reason to return to wasting your time at that school while your true potential goes unfettered. Besides," he continued in Parseltongue, "we're too alike…who will understand you?"

He nodded his agreement and settled back to let Riddle's hand work its magic. When he fought to escape the Aurors and ended up tearing through the forest all he could think of was getting back to Tom. And while some part of him worried for a moment that Tom would abandon him as well in his moment of need, he had to try.

Harry rested his head against Riddle's shoulder, allowing his breath to wash over the older wizard's neck.

"Aren't you going to ask why _I _trust you?" Harry asked at length. "You _are_ Lord Voldemort."

Riddle sighed, trying to ignore the way Harry's lips brushed against his neck when he spoke. "Honestly Harry, I don't believe you've seen me as 'Lord Voldemort' since you returned to me."

Actually, Harry thought, he'd been Tom Riddle instead of Voldemort since Harry had first seen his restored features months ago. Riddle continued.

"Besides, that is a role I am no longer able to play."

"Why not?"

After a bank of silence he answered, "Who is Lord Voldemort without his followers?"

"What about your _followers_?" the younger wizard asked.

"They are no longer mine. The Mark has gone much the way of your scar and I am no longer connected to them."

"Oh," he said at length. He wasn't quite sure what else to say, yet he couldn't help but notice the similarities in their situations. They no longer had a side in the war. Together, they were truly alone, if that made any sense.

Riddle made a noise of agreement, causing Harry to glare. For what must have been the first time, Riddle looked apologetic. "It's as though both The-Boy-Who-Lived and Lord Voldemort have managed to fade from existence."

Harry snorted. "Seems a bit morbid."

"I was thinking 'liberating', but I suppose it's a matter of opinion."

"I'd rather not have an opinion right now. Too much has happened within a twenty-four hour period and I'd rather not think about it." He scooted in a bit, as if to make himself more comfortable and felt Riddle stiffen. He did it again as an experiment, and Riddle's hand stilled in his hair.

"Harry, unless you're truly ready to finish this…"

"_Whatever do you mean?"_ he asked innocently, trailing his lips over Riddle's neck and what was exposed of his shoulder. What did he mean? He wondered, as Harry opened the top few buttons on his shirt and slipped a hand inside. He caressed and pinched, never once lifting his mouth and quite enjoying the way Riddle's thoughts had suddenly stilled.

Since when had he been able to do this to Riddle, Harry wondered while grazing his graceful shoulder with his teeth. Unfortunately, it startled Riddle out of the little reverie he'd been suspended in and he pushed the boy back enough for him to stop his attentions.

"What?" Harry asked trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

Riddle wasn't sure what to say, but what happened in the hallway hours ago still irked him. For some reason it didn't seem wise to have sex again so soon after what happened the first time.

"_Considering I barely even remember what happened 'the first time', I'd rather just try it again on our terms."_

"_You can hear my thoughts _with_ the cloaking spell?"_

"_If you were using it just then, yes."_

"Yet another effect of our…earlier activities," he said with distaste.

"I understand why you're put off after that, and maybe if I could remember it more clearly I might be as well. But right now all I can remember is not wanting it to stop."

Riddle did remember this as well, as broken pleas that filled his head and blunt nails on his back. No, Harry hadn't wanted it to stop at all. But there was the spell to consider. He found it hard to imagine that in another situation Harry wouldn't have protested a little to not using lubrication.

"Then we'll use it this time. Besides," he continued after a pause, "I owe you."

"And how did you come to this conclusion?"

"You came for me, despite obvious risk and the chance that it could have been a trap."

"You don't owe," he deadpanned. "In fact, I'm not sure that it's possible."

It took a moment before Harry realized what he was saying and he couldn't respond. He could have been wrong, but it was beginning to sound as if Riddle's conscience wasn't as dead and buried as once perceived,

"Well, maybe it isn't possible. But I can't imagine a time where I thought I'd ever be in this position," he explained, indicating their physical closeness. Riddle had stiffened during the conversation and Potter decided to take another route. "But this isn't something I want to think about either. So, it isn't possible. Then do this because you agreed to show me."

Riddle considered him silently. Harry had meant to add something cheeky about alternatively getting rid of his hard-on by himself, but those searching eyes still tended to fog his brain. They were no longer the burning red embers they used to be, but were darker and wine-tinted like brandy (his natural eye color perhaps?) And like brandy, they made his body feel flushed.

The older wizard's thoughts flew by rapidly as the idea took hold. The boy was aroused – more than he probably should have been for the amount of actual contact, but he seemed to be fully rational. His eyes were clear and dark green, like a lagoon. Potter watched him until his cheeks began to flush, but before he could look away, Riddle took him by the neck and kissed him. The smaller body leaned in almost hungrily as Riddle plundered his mouth.

There was almost a surreal quality to it. The boy genuinely wanted him, and so long as it didn't need to be said aloud, the feeling was mutual. This was undoubtedly the first time his attentions were desired for simple pleasure since he'd been a student. His followers made advances, even before his restoration. But those he dealt with and discouraged with the utmost seriousness. After all, it wouldn't do to have them think he could be influenced by something as base as sex. What Harry offered was something different entirely.

Nimble fingers worked to part the lapels of his shirt before he grasped them firmly. His grip wasn't enough to cause pain but it startled the younger wizard nonetheless. Riddle continued to kiss him possessively, having unconsciously decided that if he was to cancel memories of their previous encounter, he was to be in control.

Riddle realized he'd been fairly accurate in his past assessment that Harry had a great capacity for obedience. After all, he fell easily into his role, allowing the older wizard to grip and explore him, Nothing seemed to clear his mind quite like Riddle's touch, and it was precisely what he needed. The grip on his wrists was firm but not painful in the slightest. In fact, it was comforting.

Their eyes had drifted shut during the exchange, but as Riddle broke the kiss to smooth back the boy's hair, Harry looked up at him and froze.

"Your eyes are…kind of glowing."

"Yours too."

They both sat in stillness for a brief moment as if deciding what to do next before Harry remarked, "I don't feel any different."

"Good, nor do I." He continued to kiss Harry's neck and chin, feeling himself grow hard at the soft sounds he emitted. Harry held onto Riddle's neck, trying to figure out when his thoughts started melding together seamlessly. The older wizard slowed his pace and reached for the hem of Harry's thick sweatshirt. It was a hideous garment he thought, and slid his hands under it with the intention of removing it. However, the gasp it earned encouraged him to take a detour and caress the sides and stomach.

It was addicting, really – the feel of warm, willing flesh under his fingers. He didn't realize he'd become distracted by it until Harry made some sound of impatience and began to slide the sweatshirt off himself. Riddle let him divest himself of the garment before sliding his thumbnails over the newly exposed nipples. Potter arched into him at the sharp sensation but Riddle held him firmly at the waste. The kiss that followed was a hungry one.

"_Just relax, Harry. You're doing so well."_

He wasn't sure if it was the sound of his name spoken into his mind, or the tongue skirting the roof of his mouth, but suddenly his trousers were far too restrictive. Harry reached frantically between them to free his erection but Riddle's grip enclosed around his wrist once again.

"_Tom, I need—"_

"_Need what, Harry? This?_" He taunted while undoing the front of Harry's jeans and pulling forth his erection. Harry bucked into him shamelessly. _"No, then. Perhaps this…?"_ He suggested, sucking a pink nipple between his lips. Harry gasped, wanting to press into Riddle , but his grip on his hands hampered a lot of his movement. Riddle still held the ever-hardening cock in his hand and began to pump it in tune with his suckling. The boy was panting heavily, but Riddle paid it no mind. He just swirled his tongue around the little nub of flesh and smirked when Harry's hot semen coated his hand.

Harry's body went limp in his arms, but the euphoric thoughts escaping from him indicated that he was at least conscious. Riddle whispered the cleaning charm and stood with the boy still in his grasp.

"_Wait…_Wait, what's…what are you…"

"Relax, boy. I only prefer a bed for what I have in mind."

Once again they crossed the threshold to his bed chamber. Harry had only a vague awareness of the rest of his clothing disappearing off of his body before they reached the bed and the cool air of the room chilling his skin. The room was dark enough that his eyes had to struggle to adjust, a situation that was exacerbated by Riddle lifting his glasses off his face.

"You know, I can barely see you unless your eyes are open."

"You won't need to. Just feel," he answered softly.

Only a little nervous, Harry closed his eyes and felt Riddle settle over him. His mouth descended slowly onto the younger wizard's, sending sparks of pleasure straight to his groin. He wound an arm around the older wizard's neck and ran his free had over the skin of Riddle's back. He flinched only slightly as the boy's fingers danced their way down his spine and back up his sides. They memorized his shape, the gentle ripple of muscles beneath his shoulder blades and the way his spine just pushed the surface.

Never before had Harry ever been so aware of another being. He was learning the sensitive areas of Riddle's body (who would imagine Lord Voldemort had erotic zones?) based on the subtle reactions to his touch. So far, he was most sensitive at the base of his spine where he sucked in a breath and pressed his body close to the younger wizard. Riddle was completely hard at this point but was in no rush to end things. He took hold of Harry's hands once again, and with a spell, had them bound above his head to the headboard.

At this, Harry opened his eyes, a little thrown off kilter by his loss of movement.

"Just feel," he reminded, running his fingertips down the sensitive undersides of the boy's arms. He shivered in response, then flinched as the fingers skirted his nipples. Light tingly pain trailed in the wake of Riddle's expert hands - Riddle had somehow activated the pain curse. Of course, it was the severely watered-down version and Harry squirmed, not really trying to get away from it or towards it.

This torture went on forever it seemed, awakening every nerve in his body. Devilish fingers traced and encircled his cock, still burning with the curse. He was panting and mumbling ceaselessly, praying for release in whatever form Riddle decided to give it. Riddle enjoyed Harry's desperation, and only when he felt he'd been driven sufficiently mad did he stop the curse.

"Are you ready for me, Harry?" he purred the name into the boy's flushed skin.

"_Gods yes."_

"I can't _hear_ you, Harry."

"Yes! Tom, yes…"

Tom shifted around a bit and slipped a suddenly oiled (did he have a spell for everything?) finger into the boy's entrance. Harry bucked into it wildly enough that Riddle had to flatten a palm down on his stomach to still him. He worked the one finger for a moment and then added another, and finally a third. Harry was moaning, his head turned to the side.

Riddle oiled himself, doing so quickly so as not to come. Then he gripped the boy's waist and pushed in.

"_Bear against me. That's it."_

Harry's mind was caught in a whirlwind of sensation. His skin tingled and Riddle inside him was strangely fulfilling. Above him, Riddle was gritting his teeth. His thoughts were fast and hazy in Harry's mind as the boy's body clenched sinfully tight around him.

"_Is…is it ok?"_

"…"

"_Tom?"_

"_Merlin….so tight…"_

The next time Riddle pushed in he brushed gloriously with the prostrate sending Harry into a desperate frenzy. By the time they established a rhythm both were dizzy with pleasure. Riddle's mouth covered his again and moved to his neck and shoulder, leaving kisses and small bites all over. Harry was close, and wrapping his legs around the body on top of him he came with the next maddeningly deep stroke. It didn't take the older wizard long to follow suit, and he soon came with Parseltongue dying on his lips.

For a long time there was nothing but the sounds of their breathing in dark. When Harry's thoughts wandered back to him he realized Riddle hadn't moved save for the even rise of his chest against his own.

"Tom."

"…"

He thought to call into his mind but decided against it. Riddle was very clearly asleep. It was funny really, how humane the idea was. He remembered Riddle telling him that he didn't need food or sleep after his restoration, but here he was passed out after amazing sex like any other guy, It was…funny.

Funny or not, if he didn't move Riddle from where he was strewn on top of him, then his legs were going to go numb or some equally uncomfortable effect. Unfortunately, he didn't think he could move _himself_ after all of that, let alone someone else. Riddle was by no stretch a heavyset individual, but right now his wiry frame was all dead weight on Harry's chest. So Harry did the only thing he could think of.

"_Mobilicorpus._"

Hand outstretched, Harry guided Riddle's unconscious body to the vacant area beside him and settled them as best he could under the bedclothes. Riddle probably would have been mortified at Harry's chosen method, but he shrugged it off. Beggars can't be choosers, or something to that effect.

He waited for sleep to claim him, feeling the many stresses of their situation hovering on the edge of conscious thought. In the morning, he and Riddle would have to figure out what they were going to do, but for now he was content to focus on the sounds of Riddle's even breaths.

o-


	18. Septemdecim

XVII

The results of a bombardment of owl posts were littered all over the aged wizard's desk. The Ministry was in chaos, that is, of a political sort. Having made their report, the Aurors painted a frightening picture of the wizard Golden Boy – one of Albus' greatest fears. He truly accepted now that the situation was largely his fault, after all, he knew the boy was sneaking out, and likely to meet a man condemned. But he sensed it was essential, for whatever reason, not to intercede just yet.

Eyeing the newest addition to the pile with a heavy heart, he pondered the possibility that he'd made a grave mistake. He sensed the change in Harry the day he was returned to them. The strange gem in his ear emitting an amount of dark magic seemed testament enough that all was not as it once was with the boy. But even in that his instincts urged him not to interfere. Deciding a probing conversation couldn't do much harm if conducted carefully, he set out to have a chat with his troubled Gryffindor.

And what a stone he'd uncovered.

Harry was not a stupid young man. While Albus had been alarmed at the direction of Harry's reasoning concerning the persecution of Lord Voldemort, he did not think it was one born of brain-washing or _Imperius._ The boy was searching, almost desperately, for a way out of the role handed to him by the 'good guys'. The thought angered the headmaster the more he thought about it. He'd warned those fools at the Ministry that the boy's power did not make him solely responsible for the destruction of Voldemort. But content they were to hide behind a child – and now a young man.

Evidently that young man had finally slipped out of that role, with some help from the dark lord.

Albus skimmed the last letter again, deciding how best to respond. It was a summons from the Ministry. Given that he'd known the 'suspect', perhaps better than any of them, it was being requested that he aid in his apprehension.

_Suspect_. He was a teenager. A teenager that they had no trouble thrusting out into the war to save their skins and they wanted him captured quickly before he became the dark lord's tool instead. He resignedly selected a fresh sheet of parchment and began to head his affirmation when a question surfaced within his mind in Harry's voice.

_But…but what if he's changed?..._

At the time it seemed like the optimism of a youth fighting the harsh realities of life. But, eyeing the Ministry's letter, he felt his reluctance increase. Clearing the parchment with a wave of his wand, Albus began anew.

_I've always had faith in you Harry._

ooo

Harry woke first, something of a novelty considering who was sleeping next to him. Riddle's top half was uncovered and his bare back was facing Harry. Unguarded. Again. This really was jaw-dropping stuff. He squinted and tried to focus on the pale flesh in front of him, but it was a lost cause without his glasses, wherever they were.

He watched the fuzzy vision of Riddle's back rising slightly with his breathing before it dawned on him he should probably find his glasses and get up. Riddle turned over, facing Harry but he still appeared to be asleep.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint the location of his glasses without disturbing the sleeping dark lord. He knew Riddle had taken the time to remove them and set them down, but _where_ exactly was becoming something of a problem with his impaired vision.

He gradually shifted his body so that he could peer over the side of the bed at the floor and nightstand. Ah. He quickly set them on his nose and turned back to Riddle to find his eyes open and fixed on him. His face was expressionless, but Harry was getting better at interpreting his lack of expressions. His muscles tensed as Riddle reached for him wordlessly, pulling him closer and down beneath him. He kissed him, pressing his wiry form on top of the younger wizard, and in affect, his erection.

He couldn't possibly want another go _this_ early in the-

Harry's thoughts were briefly cut off when Riddle reached between them to pump both of their sexes roughly.

A few dizzying moments later, Riddle lay beside him once more massaging the bridge of his nose. Harry stared up at the thick velvet canopy once again too tired to move.

"Good morning to you too."

Riddle grunted something in the way of a reply and waved a lazy hand at the windows. The drapes flew open violently fast letting in what was clearly afternoon sunlight. Realizing the implication that they were actually dithering around in bed like a couple of…

"Tom, we really have some things to sort out," he announced much more calmly than he felt. Harry's dark-haired companion opened his mouth to reply when a muffled squawking caught his attention. He rolled out of bed, uncaring of his nudity, and followed the sound out into his office. The sable-feathered bird awaited him with a number of envelopes clutched in his talons. There was also a rolled copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He thumbed through the letters first, recognizing the emblems on their waxy seals as those belonging to three of his Death Eaters. One seal in particular nearly caused him to drop the creamy envelope to which it was melted. Sounds of Harry getting up led him to slide it into one of his desk drawers with a passing spell of irrational fear he didn't have time to speculate on. His young charge poked his head out of the doorway.

"Is it bad?"

Seeing as how he had not yet opened any of the letters, he couldn't really say. Not answering, he sat down in his chair and opened the first one. It, like the other two, were supposed letters of concern – their Marks had vanished and they sought direction. It was to be expected, as was the blandish tone of each letter. What he didn't expect was the urge to burn the letters and forget they all existed.

Something of his internal dilemma had either made its way onto his face or across the link he shared with the younger wizard, because Harry was fixing him with something akin to a concerned stare.

"No. It is not 'bad'."

He scanned the _Daily Prophet_ briefly, his brows rising after the first glance. He handed Harry the paper and left him to get dressed.

"_I think there may be a few items of interest for you,"_ he insisted from out of sight.

"_I agree,"_ Harry responded at length,_ " I'm fucked."_

Riddle's amused chucked floated through their link but he said no more. Harry read one article after the other with panic threatening to erupt within him.

"THE BOY WHO LIVED TO BETRAY US?"

The article explained about his recent disappearances and the 'terrifying' possibility that the wizard golden boy was no longer theirs. There didn't seem to be a lot of proof, but there was much speculation. Lucius' death had also been thrown into the mix. There was a stormy photo of Draco Malfoy and his weeping mother at the bottom. Civilians were advised to not to make any contact with Harry Potter if seen, but to alert the ministry immediately.

Like a criminal.

His hands were shaking so badly by the time he'd read the articles, the paper rattled. He shouldn't be so shocked, but he was, as if the weight of present events had been made real by those very articles. By this time everyone would have read the paper, and no longer trusted him.

_Shit. Ron and Hermione…_

He would have rather it came from him, but apparently they were to find out with the rest of the world about his actions, that is, unless Dumbledore had gotten to them first. If that was the case, there was no telling what they did or did not know.

Riddle returned, fully dressed, and glanced over Harry's distraught expression and lack of dress. "It didn't take as long as I thought it might. I'm vaguely surprised they printed it."

"I…what?" Harry had barely understood him, only realizing he'd spoken at the last second.

"The paper. I imagine the Ministry would continue it's pathetic attempt to coddle the people, taking all measures to avoid panic." He leaned over the front of his desk to take another look at the paper. A familiarly unsettling grin tugged suddenly at the corners of his mouth. "It seems they've abandoned that plan."

Harry looked up at him, still unable to say anything. He couldn't help but feel like it was all over somehow. Riddle rolled his eyes.

"Do try not to look so utterly stricken."

"This is…not good."

"Does it honestly matter? The people will believe whatever they want to believe. We'll have ample time for reshaping their opinions."

"What do you mean?"

Riddle rolled up the newspaper and it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Get dressed. We'll have lunch, and we'll talk. There is much to discuss."

Harry's gaze was fixated on where the smoke was quickly fading from the air. "Who sent it, by the way?"

"Sent what?"

"The newspaper," Harry replied, nodding his head toward the last of the smoke. "I mean, I didn't think you subscribed…"

The paper, now that Riddle thought about it properly, had been attached to the letter hidden in his desk. Until he read the letter, he preferred not to mention it.

"My ever-faithful followers," he replied with the proper application of derision. "Apparently, they thought its contents might be of some interest." He didn't feel any probing from Harry, but even so he was quite the skilled Legilimens – it went without saying that his Occlumency was equally superior.

Harry shrugged tiredly and went to go fetch his clothes. Lunch probably was a good idea, if his spinning thoughts didn't drive away his appetite.

Riddle waited a few moments before returning to the letter in his desk drawer. He held it down in front of him as if unsure it could be trusted…a simple cream envelope.

…A simple cream envelope with a very important crest.

He sat down before opening it and skipped to the signature, assuring himself that the sender was indeed Albus Dumbledore. It was a rare thing for the headmaster to send a letter using his own family seal instead of the school's, and the only time Riddle had received such a letter was in his sixth year. He'd been invited for a talk in the headmaster's (professor at the time) private study, and the man had been so genuine that it was the first and only time he doubted his chosen path to greatness.

_It's a bit late for this, old man._

He read the letter slowly, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the headmaster's request.

_Dear Tom,_

_Yes, it has been quite the collection of years since the last time I began a message this way. But I won't waste your time with the incessant ramblings of an old man. I'd like for you to join me for a talk. The place is yours to choose – just send a port key with your response. I'd tell you that I mean you no harm and that my wand is remaining here in my office but I don't expect this letter to convince you. All I ask is that you come alone. I patiently await your response._

_Albus Dumbledore_

ooo

Harry observed the activity across the table, more than a little discomfited by what he was seeing. He supposed it might have been amusing in some way, had Riddle actually been aware that he was well, eating like a man starved. It had taken several moments into the meal for him to realize something was not quite right with the other wizard's behavior. In fact, Riddle was on his second serving of whatever the hell appeared in front of him before Harry realized that Tom Riddle didn't eat like that – he barely ate at all.

Therefore, while his first serving of cream of potato and chicken soup grew tepid, he silently watched Riddle's food disappear at alarming rates while his wineglass filled steadily of its own accord. He assumed Riddle would have to slow down sooner or later, or risk throwing the lot back up. It couldn't be healthy to eat that much, whether you needed food or not. But instead of slowing, he paused altogether, having finally realized he was being watched rather adamantly.

"What?" he demanded after a particularly large swallow.

Harry was at a momentary loss for words. What could he say – you look like Dudley at Christmas dinner? Instead he cleared his throat and pushed potato chunks around in his bowl.

"You might want to…take it easy. You seemed pretty intense there."

Riddle's expression in all of its rarity indicated that he hadn't the slightest idea what Harry was on about. Harry's brows creased in growing concern. "Your food. You're taking in a lot for someone who hasn't eaten like that in a while. Just thought you'd want to…go slow," he clarified, watching him with cautious uncertainty. The irony of the reversed situation stirred an odd feeling within him. He remembered being told something along those lines some time ago.

In response the older wizard's brows furrowed, his knife hitting the wooden surface with a sharp clang. He looked absolutely stricken.

Riddle's unease hit Harry like a solid force, such was his apparent bafflement. He stood up, eyeing his ravaged dishes as if he no longer knew how they came to be in that state. Harry stood up as well, but only eyed Riddle calmly from across the table. It wouldn't do to panic _with_ him.

"Are you alright? It's not that big a deal…"

"No. It…" He stared at his hands as if they were foreign objects before gripping the back of his vacated chair. And, as if simply releasing a breath, the panic faded from him altogether leaving him to appear weary. He waved a hand at his semi-ravaged meal and watched it vanish with a vacant expression. Harry found that his appetite had gone as well.

"So I take it this means you need food now?"

Riddle's pallor was ashen, even in the golden lighting. He looked absolutely devastated.

"It would seem that way," he spoke so softly his voice barely carried across the table.

Harry took a few steps closer, now getting a better look at the older wizard.

"Tom, this may sound ridiculous, but…I think you're becoming human…again." Riddle looked about ready to say something before leaving the room altogether.

ooo

Riddle refused to consider the possible truth in what Harry said and what it could or couldn't mean. He silently left his home and any thoughts of what happened in the dining room. He was about to meet Albus Dumbledore, despite the obvious possibility of it being a trap. He knew it was ridiculous, but something made him curious. Besides, curious hardly meant reckless. He'd implemented a number of protective spells on the manor and himself, most of which he'd invented himself. If there was danger, he would know.

Dumbledore had given him the option of choosing the meeting place, so he'd chosen the Norwegian enchanted forest for he knew it extremely well. More importantly, it knew him. The portkey he'd sent the headmaster would only function once he'd arrived so he apparated to a thickly wooden section of the forest and sensed his surroundings.

Yes, just as he remember it to feel.

He waited, knowing it would only be moments before he was joined by another. When a pop sounded behind him, he flinched, instantly cursing his degenerating body for the reaction that Albus didn't need to see.

"Ah, Tom. Interesting location," the headmaster remarked, curiously sniffing the air.

Riddle had just developed the nagging suspicion that Albus was familiar with the location when the latter smiled.

"Norway. Imagine if I hadn't warn outer robes," he continued, sitting on a nearby bolder.

"How can you be so sure that is where we are?"

"Sunspell blossoms, my boy. They only grow in two enchanted locations, and well, I'd say it's a bit nippy out here for the Amazon."

Riddle raised a wry brow, hoping to hide his surprise and annoyance at having chosen a location familiar to the old man. "Intriguing as your knowledge of magical flora may be, I was under the impression that you had something to tell me."

"Ah. Yes. Before we get to that, do you mind…?" he asked, indicating the boulders they had for chairs. "I seem to have forgotten my wand."

Riddle didn't trust him. Why would his enemy come unarmed? It had to be meant to lure him into a false sense of security. If that was the case, he had to be ready for anything. He pursed his lips and took out his wand. Soon they were sitting in Victorian armchairs in the middle of a frosted forest.

"You've done a lot with yourself. I never imagined you were the type for self help, at least not the mortal kind."

"Your point, Albus? "

The headmaster paused for a moment only raising both grey brows.

"Direct. More so than I recall, at least. The Tom that ventured into my office seeking extra credit was quite content to be more, shall we say, artful." He eyed the younger wizard from under his brows knowing the familiar gesture would have an effect on him.

Riddle despised the 'look' the headmaster was now giving him and was, just as the headmaster said, normally content to be more subtle with his feelings. But today he was direct, and in no mood for games.

"What you presume to recall has little to do with the here and now, Albus. In fact, whatever you think you know about me I can assure you is poorly conceived. Now, state the meaning of this encounter."

"You're losing them, Tom. And you know of whom I speak. I've come to make you an offer."

The Dark Lord hadn't exactly been expecting this but the old man had his attention.

"What is it you think you know Albus? I'm intrigued to hear your findings."

"They're confused and not so certain of your control any longer. And I wonder if it is because you are as well. The raids have died down completely and I don't believe it's because your followers have lost their fire. You don't know what you want anymore Tom."

Judging by the battling expression Riddle was fighting to suppress, Albus knew he'd gotten it right, or at least some of it. Now if he could just keep that ear open. Riddle had finally settled his expression on bemused.

"Now Albus, there have been periods of inactivity with my followers on a number of occasions. What on earth makes you so certain there's an abnormality? That I'm…_confused_?" he finished with a degree of amusement. But Dumbledore wasn't so convinced.

"You're right. There have been periods of inactivity. And normally I would have thought nothing of it, but circumstances being what they are, I'm willing to consider other possibilities. And," he continued after a pause, "I have the odd habit of _listening_ to my students."

"Ah, Harry. So he's what this is about after all."

"I suppose you might say Mr. Potter has given me cause to reconsider my evaluation of you, or at least part of it. You know some things will never change." The headmaster stood and began to pace slowly, stopping to observe an oddly shaped branch. "I was reminded that while the rest of the wizarding world was content to either duck from your shadow or acknowledge you as Lord Voldemort, I've never done either of those. In fact, you've never ceased to be Tom Riddle to me."

Riddle snorted at the notion but let the man continue.

"I do believe you've had some contact with young Mr. Malfoy, as of late. Tell me, or not, why you let him live?" Into Riddle's silence, the headmaster continued. "Draco made the announcement of his father's demise and was as calm as can be expected of the Malfoy heir. However, he was the least bit forthcoming with the details. My speculation is that you held them both against their will for a time, and lost either patience or interest. But that doesn't explain why you let the boy live. That doesn't sound a whole lot like…oh _Lord Voldemort_. Now, if I am wrong, and I have been quite wrong before, you can ignore this entire conversation and our 'war' as we're so fond of calling it will continue. But if I'm not wrong and you are facing a dilemma, perhaps this will help you decide: I'm offering you a chance to give up your role."

Before he could stop himself, the words fell from his lips.

"What are you proposing?"

"Your death." As he spoke he stood up and reached into his robes. Instantly on his guard, Riddle was out of his chair with his wand aimed to defend himself. But the attack never came. He found an ordinary object thrust in front of him.

"What are you doing, old man?"

"I do believe I'm offering you a book, if you'd reach out and take it."

He eyed the moderately sized tome long enough to determine that there was nothing visibly wrong with it.

"I can assure you, Tom, that there is nothing extraordinary about this book besides the story itself. A muggle wrote it, in fact." He took a step forward, extending the book once more. "You were always fond of an extra challenge."

"Those days have long since faded."

"Then consider it…self help."

Riddle made no move to accept it so the headmaster set it on a nearby stone.

"It's from my personal collection so do be kind to it."

Riddle had lowered is wand to his side but he was far from relaxed.

"And, please tell Mr. Potter that I support him, as always. Though, I would be overjoyed if he returned to complete his education. Good day, Mr. Riddle."

This time when the headmaster reached into his robes he pulled out a muggle ink pen and pushed in the cap. He disappeared in a whirl of purple mist. Riddle stared through the cloud until it dissipated. The book was still where the headmaster had left it, although a thin blue serpent was winding its way around it.

"_It's safe, you know."_

"_Why, thank you," _he replied dryly. snatching up the book as the snake disappeared into the bushes. 'The Art of War' – a decent read, if he remembered correctly. But why on Earth would Albus, beacon of hope and all that was light, offer him aid? Perhaps it was more in the way of aid for Harry…

…had he really referred to him as 'Harry' in front of the headmaster?

Something intangible twisted in Riddle's chest. He needed to get back…and he needed a drink. He disappeared with the book.

-o-

AN:

peeks from behind rock

Hello again, and thank you for all of the encouraging reviews. I know its been a ridiculously long time…but there it is. It feels short for as long as it took me to produce...

Besides getting thrown off balance a bit by HPB…life is somewhat time-consuming. I will say that the story will contain no spoilers from HBP, tempting as it might be. I don't know when the next update will come around, but I should be able to work more consistently now that I've gotten the flow back. I can't thank you enough for your comments/criticism. Please continue to let me know what you think.

BD


	19. Duodeviginti

XVIII

ooo

Furious fell surprisingly short of describing Harry's mood after Riddle's  
departure. It didn't make sense, but he knew what he had sensed. Riddle  
left to go see Dumbledore of all people, and he purposely tried to hide it  
from him. The man likely had his reasons, but Harry was under the  
impression that they were beyond that. They were suppoed to discuss what  
was going on and figure out their next move, not go sneaking off to meet  
Dumbledore. 

He hurled a goblet across the empty dining room, strangely satisfied by the  
crash it made.

What if Dumbledore was planning to destroy him? Why on Earth would Tom go  
alone to meet him? It was reckless, and stupid, and driving Harry to new  
levels of stress. He left the dining room at a pace born of his agitation.   
He would get to the bottom of the matter even if he had to hex a few  
portraits to do so.

In the attic, he ripped the dustcloth from the portrait of Slytherin and  
demanded in Parseltongue, "Show yourself."

There was nothing for about a minute during which the boy ignited a heated  
ball of flames into his palm. "This is it, Slytherin. You'll explain  
everything now."

"Or what? Try as you might, you're still a boy Harry. The both of you have  
much to learn."

"This is your fault. All of it. The reason Tom snapped all of those years  
ago, killing muggles, my parents...you might not be directly responsible,  
but you lead him to it. And now I see how."

The face in the portrait was laughing openly by the time Harry paused. "And  
how is this?"

"Riddles. You never have a goddamed straight answer. But this time you did  
something to us, out in the hall. I know it changed us, and you're going to  
tell me-"

"You're sealed."

"-or...what?"  
"Sealed. Your powers have been sealed with his from  
the moment of your...coupling. I'm sure the both of you have noticed  
some...changes in eachother."  
Anger temporarily abated, his eyes widened at the haughty visage.

"I...you mean him being more human now?"

"You might say that...among other changes. Your sources of magic are now  
the same and you draw strength from eachother."

Harry blinked in confused silence before answering slowly, "Okay..."

Salazar rolled his eyes. "And here I thought Godrick's thickness might have  
been bred out of the line by now."

"What's the point of us being...'sealed'?" he asked, ignoring the last bit.

"You're now able to pursue your true role in the Wizarding community.   
Together, you'll lead them to true glory." He continued at Harry's now cautious  
expression. "Years ago I tried to communicate this very same message to  
Tom. He interpreted it as a cause to desecrate the muggle existence in  
this world, as did I. After all, wizards are and will always be superior to  
muggles. We weren't meant to hide our existence from them, allowing them  
majority rule over this world. Our race was meant to dominate, and together  
you'll bring wizards and witches into the foreground where we belong."

"How?" he breathed softly

"Your methods are for the two of you to decide."

000

A number of things told Harry that he was back. The sound of the door  
creaking and the draft of cool air across his skin...Tom's footsteps leaving  
the foyer and his power pulling at Harry with its invisible tethers. Harry didn't  
look at him, though, when the older wizard followed Harry's aura into the  
empty ballroom. Tom eyed him, there at one of the windows much the way he  
himself would stand when expecting someone. He truly had become the picture  
of a man. Though, the set of his jaw told Riddle that, at the moment, Harry  
was an angry one.

Harry did turn, regarding him with bold eyes. A moment of wordless  
communication passed between them and suddenly Riddle knew why he was angry.  
"So what did he say to you?" Harry asked quietly.

"Not so much, except, he thinks I should fake my own death."

Harry eyed the book he was holding.

"He gave you a book about it?"

"Yes, you might say that."

"Are you going to do it then?"

He studied the cover absently before making a quick irritated breath. "How utterly cowardly."

Harry silently considered his response before turning back to the window. The view really was something else.

"I wasn't aware bravery was a Slytherin interest," the younger wizard spoke towards the glass.

"Neither is consorting with Gryffindor figureheads," came the dry response.

Harry could feel Riddle's eyes on his back and knew he was thinking of a way to dissect his anger. He could tell that despite the Slytherin's attempt to appear nonchalant, Tom was actually trying to read his emotions. The careful probing was like a gentle nudge on the edge of his thoughts to which Harry couldn't help but answer.

/"It was pretty reckless. Rushing out to meet him. I don't think I need to say what it might have been."/

/"You mean like rushing out to meet you? In a Forbidden Forest with a company of Aurors at your heels? Do you mean to lecture me...Potter?"/

Harry turned at this, surprised to find Riddle right behind him. He hadn't heard him move.

"Well don't, Potter. It isn't becoming."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. Riddle had a point, though he didn't agree the circumstances were the same. He studied Riddle's eyes, realizing the man was more tense than angry and decided to drop it - the older wizard had probably been just as nervous. Instead, Harry changed the subject.

"I spoke to him again."

This came as an obvious surprise to Riddle.

"And what did he have to say?"  
There was a hesitant silence.

"That we're supposed to...lead them." Harry sounded about as discomfited by his own words as he looked at the moment.

Riddle joined him at the window, his eyes focused on the rolling landscape in silent consideration. It seemed this was what it all came back to. He didn't need Harry to specify 'who' was to be led. He'd always known he was meant to rule wizards, but so far his methods hadn't been so successful, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. It seemed like every time he'd gotten close, his powers were stripped or there was some major setback. He supposed there was always something missing in the whole scheme of things...or perhaps someone.

He glanced sideways at the young wizard, who was waiting expectantly for a reply. Could they really do it? Riddle wondered if the two of them would succeed where he alone had failed. He envisioned a powerful force of wizards no longer hiding their power and superiority from puny muggles. 

"You know, muggles really aren't all that bad..."

He'd felt Harry's gentle perusal of his thoughts once the silence had become prolonged, but he didn't mind as much as he once might have.

"But they've enjoyed their blissful ignorance for long enough," he replied at length.

Some timid part of Harry was hesitant to admit to the desire to pull wizards into the universal foreground once and for all. The likelihood that there would be disastrous consequences was not lost on him. The Wizarding world had survived as long as it did for a reason, however sketchy their idea of order might have been. But change was not necessarily a negative thing. In fact, if done properly, they just might be able to work the two worlds together.

Riddle placed a comforting hand on the nape of Harry's neck, slowly moving his thumb in gentle circles as the sound of Harry's thoughts buzzed beneath his own skull. The sudden contact reminded Harry of exactly who he'd be 'leading' these people with and that if they were to accomplish anything, they needed to organize the Wizarding world first. This was no small feat they would be attempting. It was going to take planning and probably a ton of research. His resolve was very suddenly made up.

Riddle returned the kiss gently, immediately aware that it wasn't meant to incite passion . The slow longing caresses said good bye.

Before he could read the boy's thoughts Harry clarified his intentions. "We both have work to do if we're going to go through with any of this. I...I'll need to finish school." He broke away and moved towards the door. "How should I tell the headmaster you died?" he fired over his shoulder.

He thought only for a moment, finally realizing where this plan was going.  
"With difficulty."

Harry smiled at that, turning hesitantly. "When things calm down we could probably meet again. I'd would suggest you keep a low profile until I'm out of school but...I guess you're already an expert."

"I'll think of something to occupy myself with," he replied with sarcasm that he didn't quite feel. As Harry disappeared through the door neither wizard could stop the feeling that he was being separated from an extension of himself.

000

Some weeks later...

Ron was doodling flying hippogriffs in the margin of his potions notes, attempting to charm them into motion without their professor hearing. For some reason, Professor Snarky was in a particularly foul mood that afternoon. Their NEWTs began at the end of the week and quite frankly, the redhead didn't care if adding the incorrect amount of ground dragonnail could turn a burn cream into toxic sludge. He had his ingredients listed neatly, copied perfectly from Hermione's own parchment, despite her best efforts to shield it from him. He was set to try the hippogriffs if Snape would just move on from where he loomed next to him over Harry's work. The boy had been scribbling onto his parchment like his life depended on it since Snape barked the assignment out twenty-five minutes ago. He was the last one still writing - even Hermione was shooting him glances.

Ron kicked him lightly, enough to get the boy's attention. When Harry glanced at him, Ron nodded in Snape's direction.

"Sorry, Professor. I'm just finished."

"I should think so," he replied irratably, snatching the parchment and storming off towards the lecturn.

Harry was aware of the looks. He was always aware of the looks, but this time he didn't care. He had a purpose and he was determined to see it through.

Ron and Hermione caught up with him after class, both a little wary but determined to achieve a sense of normalcy.

"You know Harry," the witch began with a genuine smile, "you're really doing alot to get caught up. I'm...well, we're really proud of you."

He looked at his two friends and wondered if they questioned his story. Did they ever suspect the truth about the 'Fall of Lord Voldemort"? Harry realized he was staring and smiled back. "Thanks. I know I missed a lot of work while I was...gone. I just want to pass those NEWTs and move on."

"Well, I bet potions will be a synch. Old Snarky doesn't know how to act with you getting everything right for a change. Your results will give him a heart attack, they will."

"Professor Snape," she corrected with a half-hearted glare at the redhead, "is probably just as pleased as any professor would be. He didn't even take points from us today he was so busy watching Harry finish the assignment."

"Probably thought he was cheating," Ron mumbled.

Harry wasn't sure what Snape thought. Ever since he'd returned with the news of Voldemort's demise, he hadn't quite looked at him the same. He looked suspicious. Of course, one might say Snape always looked suspicious, but he got the feeling Snape suspected there was at least more to the story than Harry had told the headmaster and the Ministry. He just hoped the man lost interest instead of asking any dangerous questions.

It was warm outside with spring well underway and most students were out strolling the grounds before dinner. It seemed Voldemort was a distant memory for these students, carefree and blissfully ignorant. There had been a lot of celebrating after Harry's announcement of the end of the war, and the only haunted looks belonged to Slytherins whose parents were either in hiding or in Azkaban. The papers had filled in Harry's brief account with the expected dramatization and by the end of the day the Wizarding world was a very happy place.

Amazing how simple it was.

Dumbledore hadn't asked him what he planned to do, simply reiterated his confidence in the true descendant of Gryffindor. For once, the man was staying out of it.

Ron left them to walk with Verna, the pretty Ravenclaw he'd been seeing steadily for some time now. This left Harry and Hermione to sit at the edge of the docks on the lake. The blurred shapes of fish and magical marine life drifted by periodically.

"You know Harry, there's something I needed to ask you. You and Ron both chose your classes based on the requirements for Auror training, but you chose not to submit the application with him."

Harry shifted a little uncomfortably. He knew where this was headed and was surprised Hermione had held back the question for so long.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, when I agreed to be an Auror, it seemed, I dunno, like the right thing to do. Voldemort was still alive and with the Death Eaters actively terrorizing things it made sense."  
He was amazed how steady his voice was.

"And now?"

"Now...there are other problems. Other things I might be able to help with."

"I see. Well you have a lot of options. What are you leaning towards?"

He hesitated a moment, deciding quickly that it wouldn't hurt to be honest about this much. "Maybe the Ministry."

Her expression was priceless.

"Of magic?" Realizing how foolish that sounded she blushed. "Harry that's great! We need more sensible people over at the Ministry. I bet Ron's dad could probably score you an internship, if not an actual position."

"Maybe," he replied. He thought quickly of ways to turn the conversation off of himself for the time being. He wasn't sure how much was safe to get into just yet. She was likely under the impression he was aiming for department head at the most. There was no telling how she'd react to his possible interest in becoming the minister himself. Ron had been upset enough that his best friend decided not to apply for the Auror training program. He was probably waiting on The-Boy-Who-Lived to come to his senses and turn in a last minute application, not bust into the ministry to seize Fudge's job.

"I suppose you're all set then, Hermione?"

"Oh one can never be too sure. I've got all of my recommendations lined up, but I won't know until we do our NEWTs." Hermione was aiming for a career in Wizard medicine, hoping to join a research team where she could test some theories. Harry had little doubt that she'd be snatched up after one look at her credentials. But it was no surprise she was worried.

"I'm sure any team would be excited to have you," he replied honestly. She said something else then, but Harry's thoughts had wandered. He longingly wondered what Tom was doing, visions of brandy and classical novels flitting through his mind. He didn't realized he was smiling until Hermione tapped him on the arm.

"I don't know why you think that's funny."

"Huh?"

"Mrs. Weasley. I was saying since you decided to get your own place after graduation, she'll be showing up at all hours with food. You know you're practically her adopted son," she repeated, watching him carefully. For moment it had seemed like he was miles away.

"Oh."  
She watched him for another moment before mumbling something about Arithmancy notes and heading back towards the castle. He watched her go, hoping that when the time came to let the both of his friends know his intentions that they would support him. 

End...?

AN:  
(Clicks 'update' and runs for cover)

Now that you all have been broken into my deplorable updating habits, there's a sequel up in the air. Got some tentative ideas that I didn't get to explore in this fic, so sorry if that ending was anticlimactic. It was beginning to drag a little and I hope to pick it up some in a second round.

Sorry if I lost you in the wait. No excuses except life. I'll try not to start posting the next fic until I have enough juice to keep things constant. I find that my writing is less scattered if I let things sit before posting. I apologize if this fic was a little murky in that aspect. (One of the many things I have to work on!)

Thank you to anyone who was still reading this. I hope you all managed some enjoyment out this hobby of mine.

(btw...i threw in slashes to help indicate mind speech. ffnet wasn't accepting my italics.) 


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